Small Advances
by chelsie fan
Summary: Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes experience a gradual but welcome change in their dealings with each other. Mostly Carson/Hughes with a smattering of other characters, including Mrs. Patmore and Lady Mary.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N A Little Bit of Chelsie for all of us who love them. Since it seems we can expect no joy from our dear Mr. Fellowes, we're left to our own devices to bring these two together in our own little fanfiction world. Disclaimer: Of course, I don't own it or them!**

Chapter 1

Charles was in agony. Last night, he had made up his mind finally to ask her. He hadn't slept a wink. He had paced around his room so many times that he had been sure he must have worn a track in the wood of the floor. He had tried to read a book, but after having read the same few sentences twenty times, his tortured mind still couldn't make sense of the words. He had gone downstairs and had a glass of milk, but that hadn't helped, either. Finally, he had given up even trying to sleep and just gotten washed, dressed, and ready for the day.

This morning was no better. Charles had decided to talk to her this evening, after everyone else had gone to bed. He didn't know how he would get through the day. Even if he tried to avoid her as much as possible, he would still have to sit beside her at meals, exchange pleasantries when they met in the corridors, and discuss the business of running the house. As it happened, he wasn't able to avoid her for very long at all.

He was sitting in his pantry before breakfast, trying to tot up some figures, but Charles found that he couldn't pay attention to the numbers in his ledger. He was ready to throw his pen down in frustration when her familiar knock sounded at his door.

It took a colossal effort for him to force an even tone when he said, "Come in."

"Good morning, Mr. Carson," said the object of his consternation.

"Ah. Mrs. Hughes. Good morning," he answered, as calmly as he was able.

She gave him a curious look, and Charles was seized with sudden terror, fearing that, like so many times before, Mrs. Hughes knew exactly what he was thinking. But she only said, "I just came to see that everything is in order for today. Is there anything we need to discuss before things get too busy?"

"I believe everything is well in hand, Mrs. Hughes," he responded formally, with all the composure he could muster.

"Very well, then. I'll leave you to it," she told him, just as formally.

She was ready to leave, but paused instead with a look of concern and said, "Mr. Carson, you're looking unwell this morning. Is something the matter? Are you feeling ill?"

He knew that Mrs. Hughes could always tell when something was bothering him, and so the question didn't surprise him.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," he lied. "Only I had some trouble sleeping last night. It was much too warm in my room. It's nothing, really. I'll be right as rain after some breakfast."

Charles knew also that, while she didn't believe him for a minute, she wouldn't press him. She accepted and respected his need for privacy. When he said, "I'm perfectly fine … It's nothing," she understood him to mean, "I'm not at all fine. Something troubles me, but I don't wish to speak of it."

Saying only, "If you are quite certain … I'll see you at breakfast," she started to walk away.

"Er, Mrs. Hughes," Charles called after her, getting up from his desk.

"Yes, Mr. Carson?" she said, turning to face him again.

"There is something … something I'd like to tell you … rather, something I want to ask you …" he faltered. "That is to say, there is a certain matter I wish to discuss with you later, if you would be so kind as to spare me a few minutes. May I bring some wine to your parlor this evening?"

"Of course, Mr. Carson," she returned. "Only I'm rather concerned now; this 'matter' sounds quite serious."

"It's nothing to fret about, Mrs. Hughes, just a small … erm … well, a slight alteration of routine that I hope you'll find agreeable. Not to worry," he tried to reassure her.

"All right, then," she said, nodding. "We'll talk this evening."

"Very good. Thank you," he replied, turning back to his desk.

As Mrs. Hughes closed his pantry door, he felt relieved that he had at least been able to ask her to speak with him later. He was still terrified, however, at the thought of asking the question he planned to put forth to her this evening and positively petrified at the prospect of receiving an unfavorable response. _This is going to be one very long day,_ thought Charles, groaning softly.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thank you for all your kind reviews for Chapter 1! For those of you who asked so nicely, here's the second installment.**

Chapter 2

Elsie was at a loss. She waited in her sitting room that evening, wondering what on earth could have Mr. Carson in such a state. He had been unsettled all day. Even His Lordship had noticed Mr. Carson's uncharacteristic preoccupation and asked Elsie if she thought there might be something wrong. She could only reply honestly that she had no idea.

After decades of working as a butler, Mr. Carson had perfected his ability to keep an impassive countenance and bearing, even under the most trying circumstances. But Elsie had worked closely with him for years, and she noticed things that others didn't - subtle things. She took great pride in the fact that she was often able to tell what he was thinking. Indeed, her ability to guess what might be on his mind had proven useful many times with this reticent, stoic man.

At first, Elsie had tried to attribute her uncanny perspicacity concerning Mr. Carson to her training and experience as a housekeeper. After all, a good housekeeper was supposed to be aware of everything that was happening with both the staff and the family. A good housekeeper was supposed to be able to anticipate people's needs, to prevent problems through attentiveness and foresight. It was all part of her job to look out for signs of trouble, offer support and comfort, and to fix things that had gone wrong. And it was only natural that she should take particular care with the butler. The well-being of the head of the staff was necessary to ensure the efficiency of the servants' work and the smooth running of the house, and it was her duty to ensure his well-being. She was, if nothing else, a good housekeeper.

And then, she had tried to ascribe her concern for Mr. Carson to their friendship. They were close in age, of similar temperament, both devoted to their jobs. They necessarily spent a great deal of time together working in their respective positions and naturally gravitated towards each other in their free time. They had more in common with each other than they did with any of the younger staff. It was not surprising that they should be best friends.

But if she were completely honest, Elsie would have to admit that her special attention towards Mr. Carson had less to do with the fact that she was a dutiful housekeeper or a devoted friend and much more to do with the plain, undeniable truth that she had been desperately, unreservedly, inexorably in love with him from the start.

Nothing would ever come of it, of course. She could never act on her feelings, and she was sure that he didn't return them. In fact, she wished that she had never had such feelings. They caused her nothing but heartache. Even so, she couldn't deny them, nor, try as she might, could she abolish them. So she resigned herself to love him in the secrecy of her heart, which belonged to him anyway.

While Elsie waited, impatiently, for Mr. Carson get the family and staff settled for the night, she tried to puzzle out what he might want to discuss. She could only presume that it must be the same matter that had had him so distracted all day. She wasn't aware of any particular concerns or issues with either the family or staff, so all she could do was wait for him to enlighten her.

After what seemed an age, his knock finally came, and she called for him to come in. He entered, greeted her, and placed a decanter of wine and two glasses on her small table. She took a seat at the table while he poured the wine. As he handed her a glass, she noticed that his usually steady hand was a bit _un_steady tonight. He sat down stiffly in the chair next to her and sipped his wine.

Elsie inquired, "So, everyone is settled, then?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, they're all sorted," he replied, but his attention was clearly elsewhere.

After they had drunk their wine in silence for several minutes, Mr. Carson still hadn't broached the subject that by now had made her nearly as uneasy as he was. So she prompted, "Mr. Carson? You said earlier that you wanted to talk about something? Something regarding a change in routine?"

"Ah, yes. I did," he said. He paused, took a deep breath, and looked fixedly at his wine glass before continuing, "Mrs. Hughes, I wonder if I might ... That is to say, would you permit me to ... Rather, I'm hoping that you would consider allowing ..."

He trailed off, unable to continue, sighed helplessly, and closed his eyes. Elsie had never seen Mr. Carson so ill at ease. She couldn't imagine what he had to say that could be so awful. She wanted to do something to comfort him.

They rarely touched each other. Truth be told, any physical contact with Mr. Carson elicited feelings that Elsie could hardly control. Now, however, the need to offer him some sort of support overwhelmed her. The poor man was in such distress that she actually pitied him. She desperately wanted to throw her arms about him and hold him close, but she knew that that would only increase his current perturbation tenfold. So she settled for a gesture that she hoped would soothe him: she reached across the table and very gently placed her hand on top of Mr. Carson's.

His reaction was both unexpected and gratifying: he exhaled deeply, relaxed his shoulders, opened his eyes to look at her, and smiled broadly. His immediate and obvious relief made her glad she had decided to undertake such a bold action, but she was happier still when he timidly rearranged their hands so that he was holding hers more firmly in his. As he did so, Mr. Carson looked at her anxiously, silently asking permission, apparently afraid that she might think him too forward. Elsie smiled back, answering his unspoken question, and he seemed to understand that she found this new familiarity acceptable.

Now that he was more at ease, she tried again to get him to tell her what it was that had him so agitated.

"Mr. Carson?" she queried. "Will you please tell me now what it is that's got you all tied up in knots? Whatever it is, surely it can't be as bad as all that."

"Oh, it was _worse_ than all that!" he told her. "But it's better now."

"And what, may I ask, has happened in the last minute and a half that your problem has somehow sorted itself out?" she wondered, now thoroughly confused.

"Well, ... this," he answered simply, looking and nodding in the direction of their joined hands. Then he lowered his eyes and explained quietly, "I was trying to work out a way to ask if I might hold your hand."

Seeing the solemn look on his face, she suppressed a chuckle.

"That's what's had you all in a dither?!" Elsie asked in near disbelief. "Goodness! And here I was fearing that you'd tell me Her Ladyship had decided to change the menu and double the number of guests for the ball! I was afraid it was something _really_ awful."

"And so it would have been, if you had said no!" he responded seriously.

"Really, Mr. Carson! You didn't honestly think that I might?" she chided gently, looking directly into his eyes to emphasize her sincerity. "You needn't have worried. You may hold my hand any time you'd like."

He positively beamed at her reply.

"Well, it might not be appropriate at breakfast in the servants' hall or in the main areas of the house when others are about ... But when we are alone together, here in your sitting room or my pantry, while we are talking and drinking our tea or wine, I should like it very much if you would allow me to take this liberty, Mrs. Hughes," stated Mr. Carson, ever so properly.

"Of course, I'll allow you, Mr. Carson. And I hardly consider it 'taking a liberty'! You'll recall that it was _I_ who took _your_ hand first, without asking. I hope you don't think me too bold," she teased.

"Not at all," he said, smiling, and added somewhat sheepishly, looking down again, "In fact, I'm rather glad you did. Otherwise, I might never have got up the courage to ask. I was afraid you'd think _me_ too bold."

"I would never," she told him, grinning.

And so they sat, hand in hand, talking, drinking wine, both more comfortable after the initial apprehension. Even after an hour, his touch still thrilled her, but at least her heartbeat and breathing had settled somewhat. She wondered briefly if he was similarly affected by their newfound intimacy, but decided just to enjoy her present bliss and think on that later.

When the hour grew late, Mr. Carson said, "Well, Mrs. Hughes, I should be on my way. I've had a very pleasant evening, and I hope that we can do this again soon." He raised their joined hands slightly and gave hers a gentle squeeze.

"I'd like that very much," she responded with her brightest smile and a matching blush.

Mr. Carson carefully let go of her hand, pausing when just their fingertips were touching. Then he rose, took the empty glasses and decanter, bade her goodnight, and left Elsie in utter felicity.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thank you so much for all your beautiful reviews! I appreciate your taking the time to share your thoughts. I love reading every word. Please keep them coming!**

**Just a short chapter this time. Next one will be up soon!**

Chapter 3

Charles was over the moon. He lay in bed that night, thoroughly exhausted but ridiculously giddy. What a change had occurred since the previous night! Last night, he had lain awake, wondering how he was ever going to be able to ask Mrs. Hughes to allow him to do something he'd wanted to do for so long. Tonight, he had somehow managed finally to ask her, albeit in a very roundabout way, and she had said yes! Quite readily, too, he thought, to his delight.

She had even taken his hand first. He knew that she had done it only as a means of comfort, seeing how distraught he was, but she had achieved her aim. Her gentle caress had seemed somehow to calm him and excite him at the same time. It had soothed him enough to give him confidence and had provoked him enough to stir him into action. After she had initially placed her hand over his, he had felt brave enough to take her hand in his own, in a gesture that he had hoped would convey more than just appreciation or relief. Charles had stumbled earlier trying to find the words to ask permission, but then he had found it much easier to ask her with a look, after their hands were already joined. He had tried to make his eyes say, "I want to hold your hand – _really hold it_. May I?" The smile she had given him in answer had made his heart race, his cheeks flush, and his breath catch. He could only hope that she had understood (she always did) and fervently prayed that she was as pleased as he was.

Someday, he would tell Mrs. Hughes exactly how he felt. He would bare his soul to the woman he had loved for so long and ask her if she returned his affections. But Charles was not a man given to passionate declarations or bold actions. Nor did he cope well with change. It would take time before he could get to that point. He had to progress in small increments. It had taken all the courage he could muster just to ask to hold her hand.

Charles knew that Mrs. Hughes understood him better than anyone else ever could. Sometimes he felt that she could see into his very soul. She would certainly know how difficult this would be for him. He hoped that she would be patient with him until he could give her more. And, oh, how he wanted to give her more! So much more! All his love. And, oh, how he ached for her love in return!

Someday, he hoped, there would be more. Someday, he hoped, she would be his, and he would be hers, wholly and exclusively. But tonight ... Tonight, for one blissful hour, he had held the hand of the most beautiful, precious woman in the entire world, and she had said she would be happy to allow him to do it again! Tonight, that was enough. Enough to make Charles Carson the happiest man in all of England.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Please keep the reviews coming! Loving them!**

Chapter 4

Elsie was lost in reverie. So absorbed was she in blissful musings about Mr. Carson that she failed to hear Mrs. Patmore's knock at her parlor door. She didn't even notice the woman enter and place a tea tray on her table. It wasn't until the cook called, "Mrs. Hughes? Mrs. Hughes!" that she was pulled from her daydream.

"Oh! Hello, Mrs. Patmore. I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I'm afraid you've caught me woolgathering," Elsie admitted. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you can sit with me and have some tea and tell me exactly what is going on with you and Mr. Carson, that's what!" said Mrs. Patmore, sitting down and making herself comfortable.

"Why, I'm sure I don't know what you mean," the housekeeper said, biting back a grin and joining her friend at the table.

"I'll have none of that, now, Mrs. Hughes! I do have eyes, you know, and they work just fine now. I've seen the two of you this morning. Mr. Carson hasn't been this happy since the day I told him you were well! Yesterday he was bumbling about, mad as the Hatter, and today he's grinning like the Cheshire Cat! There's only one reason that man would be so happy, and she's sitting right here in front of me!" the cook observed as she poured them both some tea. "And if you're not looking a bit sparkly-eyed yourself this morning, then I'll need to have my own eyes seen to again! So start talking!"

"Really, Mrs. Patmore, nothing has happened," Elsie insisted, fighting against the color that she knew must be rising in her cheeks.

"All right, suit yourself. Don't tell me, then," said Mrs. Patmore said, raising her hands in mock surrender and pretending to yield. She took a drink of tea and then proceeded, "I will warn you, however, that I have quite a wild imagination, and I'm fairly certain than what I'm imagining right now is far more sordid than the actual truth. So if you don't tell me otherwise, I'll have no choice but to go on suspecting all sorts of scandalous encounters." The devious cook added as an afterthought, "Unless, of course, you'd like to give me the key to the store cupboard. Because if you were to do that, I think I could imagine something perfectly innocent and let the matter rest."

Elsie knew she was beaten. Very few people could gain the upper hand with the formidable Scottish housekeeper. One of them was the man they were presently discussing, the other was the woman sitting before her, and the two of them together were responsible for her present discomfiture.

"You think yourself very clever, don't you?" demanded Elsie.

"It's only because I am," quipped Mrs. Patmore with a satisfied smirk.

"Very well. It seems I have no choice ... If you must know, Mr. Carson has asked if he may hold my hand," Elsie revealed, reluctantly.

"And?"

"And I've told him he may."

"And?"

"And he has."

"Good Heavens, woman! What am I going to have to do to drag this story out of you? Perhaps I'll have to go and ask Mr. Barrow. He's sure to know. He's always lurking about at the most inconvenient times. Of course, if Miss O'Brien were still with us, I'd know already."

"Yet another reason to be glad she's left. And if Mr. Barrow's got something to add to what I've already said, then he's made it up, because there's nothing else to tell."

"Nothing else?"

"Last night, Mr. Carson asked if he could hold my hand. I said that he could. He did. And that is the whole story."

"He held your hand?"

"He held my hand."

"And that's all?"

"That is all."

"So let me understand. The two of you lovebirds sat all alone together last night, everything quiet and still, no one about, with a nice bottle of wine, and you were talking, and smiling, and laughing, and ... holding hands?! Oh, that's a right Romeo you've got yourself there, Mrs. Hughes!"

"I'm sorry if it's not shocking enough for you. This _is_ Mr. Carson we're talking about."

"You're absolutely right! That is _very_ shocking behavior indeed for Mr. Carson. There's no telling where it might lead. First he's holding your hand, and the next thing you know he'll be whisking you off to some hotel in Malton to have his way with you!"

At that, the two women erupted into a fit of hilarity, giggling like young girls. When they both regained their composure, Mrs. Patmore asked, "But seriously, now. Has he made any declarations? Have you an understanding? What are his intentions? What does it all mean?"

"Steady on, Mrs. Patmore! Don't let's go overboard, now. I'm not sure it means anything. Perhaps it's only that his hands were lonely," Elsie suggested, trying to make light of the situation. Secretly, of course, she wished most ardently that she could ascribe some deeper meaning to Mr. Carson's actions, but she would never say so aloud, even to her trusted friend.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. After noticing Elsie's reaction, Mrs. Patmore called, "Oh, do come in, Mr. Carson. I'm just leaving."

Mr. Carson opened the door and entered, looking puzzled. "I'm curious, Mrs. Patmore, and rather impressed," he said. "How did you know who it was?"

"I didn't," replied the feisty cook, rising to leave and taking the tea tray with her. "But Mrs. Hughes certainly did, and there's no one else whose knock could bring about _that_ smile." She closed the door before either Elsie or Mr. Carson could respond.

The two stood there for a moment, both blushing like naughty school children caught out in some sort of trouble, but then Mr. Carson recovered himself and cleared his throat.

"Yes, right. Well. I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed our, erm ... talk … last night, and I hoped you might be free later this evening. Will you come to my pantry after everyone's gone up?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, I think I can manage that," Elsie answered, trying not to sound too eager, but smiling warmly. "Shall I bring some tea and biscuits?"

"That would be very nice. Thank you," he told her.

"All right," she said. "I'll look forward to it."

"Good. So will I," responded Mr. Carson, returning her smile. "Until later, then."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Well, here it is - Chapter 5. If you're still reading, thanks for sticking with me this far. I know we've been moving slowly, but things are starting to pick up. For those of you who have said that you can easily believe that it might happen this way, thank you! I think so, too. That's my whole intention. I've tried to keep it as believable as possible - something that _could_ (wishful thinking?) actually happen in Series 4. I hope I haven't disappointed!**

Chapter 5

Charles was, once again, in a state. He had another question to ask Mrs. Hughes. His anxiety was milder this time, though. He had by now grown accustomed to his new arrangement with her and had become more confident. Nearly every night for a month, he had gone to her sitting room or invited her to his pantry. They had talked and drunk their wine or tea or sometimes just sat quietly, enjoying each other's company.

Spending his evenings with Mrs. Hughes was nothing new, but Charles now looked forward to their time alone with even greater anticipation. He had become more comfortable holding her hand. He had even been so bold as sometimes to caress her hand while holding it - to brush her knuckles with his thumb or to run his fingertips over the back of her hand. She had reciprocated by delicately stroking his hand with her soft fingers, and he had marveled at the way her touch could be both so exhilarating and so comforting at the same time.

Now, after a month's time, he hoped he might be ready for the next small step. He had invited her to his pantry and was now waiting for her to finish her work and join him. Finally, Mrs. Hughes arrived.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. That took a bit longer than I had expected," she apologized.

"That's quite all right. Mrs. Hughes, I wonder if you might like to join me for a walk tonight. We won't go far, just a little stroll through the grounds. It's a beautiful evening. I know it's late, and it might be a bit chilly, but we won't stay out long," Charles implored.

"I think that would be lovely," she agreed.

"Excellent. Shall we?" he said, smiling and motioning towards his pantry door.

On the way to the back door, they stopped to get their coats. Charles held out Mrs. Hughes's coat to help her put it on, something he never did when others were about. When she turned around and slid her arms into the sleeves, he allowed his hands to linger lightly on her shoulders. Then he put on his own coat, and they stepped outside.

Once in the courtyard, he offered her his arm, something else he never did in the presence of others. She took his arm, and they shared a smile. They walked slowly through the courtyard and out onto the lawn. It was indeed a lovely evening. The sky was clear, and the moon was bright. Neither of them minded the slight chill. On the contrary, the cool air provided an excuse for them to walk closer than they otherwise might have.

As they walked, they talked about the day's work and commented on the beauty of the grounds. Charles led them to a bench near a flower garden, and they sat down next to each other. He took her hand, as was now his habit when they sat alone together. Neither spoke for a few minutes, but the silence was comfortable.

Then he turned to face her, still holding her hand, and said, "Mrs. Hughes, I must confess, I have a particular reason for inviting you out here tonight."

"I should hope so, Mr. Carson!" Mrs. Hughes teased. "It's very unlike you to lure an unsuspecting woman to a dark, secluded place late at night, so I can only assume that your motives are entirely honorable."

Charles felt his face flush and nearly lost his nerve, but he was determined.

"Not _entirely_, I'm afraid." he admitted, at which point Mrs. Hughes looked at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He continued, "They're not _dis_honorable, exactly, but selfish, perhaps. You see, there is something I've wanted to do, but I can't do it in either my pantry or your parlor; the furniture is not suitable."

"Oh? And just what type of furniture would you require in order to be able to do this 'something'?" she wanted to know.

"Well, a settee, or a sofa, or even a bench like this one. Anything that would allow us to sit side by side," he explained.

"I see. And just what, precisely, is it you've been wanting to do that requires us to sit next to each other like this?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"Mrs. Hughes … " he began nervously. "I have enjoyed holding your hand these past weeks, and I hope you haven't found it too unpleasant," he continued with downcast eyes and a self-deprecating grin. "At any rate, you've allowed it, and I am very grateful for the privilege. I wonder if you would grant me the further privilege of resting my arm about your shoulders when we are sitting as we are now."

Charles thought he noticed her shiver. Perhaps she was cold, but he hoped there might be a different reason - the same reason that sent shivers up his own spine, a reason that had nothing to do with the night air and everything to do with their current proximity and the prospect of more intimate contact.

"Mr. Carson," she responded with a shy smile, "I also have enjoyed our recent dealings, and I would be only too pleased to allow you to place your arm round me."

He smiled back, gently let go of her hand, pulled his arm back, and slowly raised it around her back it until his hand came to rest on her shoulder. He was elated when Mrs. Hughes slid closer and leaned lightly against his side. She placed her hand on his knee, and he covered it with his free hand. Charles started to rub his other hand in delicate circles around her shoulder and upper arm, and she shivered again.

"I'm sorry. You're cold. We should go back," he offered, disappointed.

"No, not at all!" she assured him. "As a matter of fact, I'm quite comfortable, really."

He couldn't help smiling as he gingerly pulled her closer. They sat quietly, both too content for words. Charles closed his eyes and released a sigh that he hoped wasn't too obvious. He had never been so close to Mrs. Hughes. He could feel her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing; he could smell her shampoo. And how he longed to bury his nose and lips in her hair! It would be so easy. If he just leaned in a few more inches…

But he couldn't. Not yet. All this was too much for Charles. He had been in love with Mrs. Hughes for two decades, and now, here he was, holding her close, and he was afraid. Did she feel for him any part of what he felt for her? Maybe she was just being kind, tolerating his recent nonsense. Perhaps she thought him ridiculous. Oh, blast! He resolved to enjoy this perfect moment right now and ponder his foolishness later.

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned towards her and found her looking at him earnestly.

"Thank you for this, Mr. Carson. It's very pleasant, being here with you … though it's a shame we have to come all the way out here to find 'suitable furniture,'" Mrs. Hughes lamented.

"Oh, I don't know … Sometimes it's nice to get away from the house. It gives one a different perspective on things," he noted, hoping his deeper meaning wasn't lost on her – or maybe hoping it was.

"It does indeed," she agreed.

"Perhaps … we could do this more often?" Charles suggested tentatively.

"You have only to ask," she responded.

"Then I shall," he told her, smiling eagerly. "You may depend on it. Now, let's get you back inside before you catch cold."

"I'm not that fragile, Mr. Carson. But you're right. We probably should be getting back now," she acquiesced.

They both stood. When he offered her his arm, she wrapped both of her hands around it and held it firmly. Charles enjoyed the feeling of having Mrs. Hughes on his arm and felt a sudden surge of pride at the thought of having such a lovely woman holding onto him possessively. As they walked back to the house, he found himself thinking he would like to able to walk with her like this more often – to the village to run errands or to church on Sundays. He was so distracted, in fact, that he had difficulty keeping up the light conversation she was making.

When they were back inside, Charles helped Mrs. Hughes take her coat off. Once again, he enjoyed the pleasure of letting his hands linger longer than strictly necessary on her shoulders and shuddered when his fingers brushed the soft skin of her neck.

She turned to him and said, "I should be heading up now. I'll say goodnight." She smiled and softly squeezed his arm before continuing, "Thank you for a most delightful evening, Mr. Carson. I can't remember having spent a nicer one."

"The pleasure was all mine, Mrs. Hughes. I'll just lock up and then be off to bed myself. Good night," he responded, returning her smile.

Mrs. Hughes turned and walked upstairs. Charles watched her until she was out of sight, struck, not for the first time, by her beauty and grace. Then he completed his final checks for the night with a light heart and a silly grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Another short chapter. More to follow soon. As always, your reviews are appreciated - more than you know. I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!**

**Oh, I forgot to mention before the last chapter why they had to go outside in order for Charles to put his arm around Elsie. I know that many of my favorite stories from other authors refer to a settee in Elsie's sitting room, but even after re-watching all the scenes occurring in and around her room, I still could not spot one. So my obstinacy and refusal to deviate from canon, even in such small matters as furniture, wouldn't allow me to introduce one into my story. Hence, the bench. Silly, I know, but I think I made it work reasonably.**

Chapter 6

Elsie was floating on air. She had controlled her excitement until she was out of Mr. Carson's sight, but then she had practically bounded up the rest of the stairs and had to restrain herself to keep from skipping down the women's corridor like a schoolgirl. Now inside her room, she leaned back against her door, and her body sagged with the release of the night's tension.

She could hardly think straight. Mr. Carson, in the twenty years she had known him, had never been anything more than kind and friendly. He had never made her think that he felt for her any part of what she felt for him. Their only previous physical contact (before the recent hand-holding) had consisted of brief, comforting touches. But tonight, the sensation of being so near him and having so much of their bodies touching, had been nearly more than Elsie could bear. She had never been so close to Mr. Carson - his arm around her shoulders, her body leaning gently into his side, their legs touching, her hand on his knee, his hand caressing hers ... She had felt his chest move with his breathing and had smelled his aftershave. And how she had longed to rest her head on his shoulder! It would have been so easy. If she had just leaned in a few more inches...

But she couldn't. Not yet. It would have been too much for him. Elsie knew better than anyone that the two things Mr. Carson found most trying were adapting to change and expressing emotion. Any display of affection on her part would challenge him on both counts.

She wasn't even sure her feelings were reciprocated. It was true that he had been more intimate lately, physically, but he hadn't said one word that indicated he felt anything romantic. His holding her hand and putting his arm around her, while thoroughly pleasing to her, hardly came close to the confessions of love and subsequent amorous demonstrations Elsie would have liked. No matter how badly she wanted things to progress more quickly, she could do nothing to speed the process along. Any advances on her part - even if he did return her affections - would only frighten him and ruin everything. No, Mr. Carson would have to set the pace, and if proclamations of fidelity and passionate embraces were to be, they would happen in his own sweet time. She would be patient with him until he could give her more. And, oh, how she wanted more! So much more! All his love. And, oh, how she ached to give him her love in return!

Someday, she hoped, she would tell him she loved him with the passion of a woman half her age and the quiet devotion of a woman much older. Someday, she would happily wrap her arms about him and kiss him silly, and then, when they both could breathe and see straight again, she would just as happily fix his tea the way he liked it and mend his socks. But tonight … Tonight, for one blissful hour, the finest, most attractive man in the entire world had held her close, and he had said he'd like to do it again! Tonight, that was enough. Enough to make Elsie Hughes the happiest woman in all of England.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N I don't really like Lady Mary, but like Carson (and Anna), I do see potential in her, and some redeeming qualities. It seems she does have genuine affection and concern for a few people, Carson and Anna among them. The only time she ever behaves as a human being is when she interacts with them. I hope I haven't stretched things beyond belief with her in this chapter.**

**I have truly enjoyed reading every single review I've received. Thank you, particularly to my faithful reviewers who send me their thoughts with every chapter. I like knowing what you think. Please, please, please, keep it up! And I'd also love to hear from some of you who haven't shared anything yet. I get excited every time I hear from someone new.**

Chapter 7

Charles was off in another world. His daydreams involved Mrs. Hughes, as they usually did, except that now his dreams seemed so much closer to becoming reality. For weeks now, they had been holding hands. He had been putting his arm around her during those precious evenings when they were able to steal away together to their bench. He had held her in his arms. Well, almost. One arm at a time, really, depending on which side he sat on. But still …

"Carson? Carson!" Her Ladyship's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Charles remembered suddenly that he was supposed to be serving the ladies their tea. He realized that he had been standing, staring off into space, grinning like a fool.

"I beg your pardon, M'Lady. I was momentarily distracted. I do apologize. It won't happen again," Charles spluttered, embarrassed by his inattention.

"Well, whatever it was, at least it must have been a very _pleasant_ distraction, judging by your smile," commented Lady Mary, smiling herself and seeming genuinely happy for Charles.

"Indeed!" Lady Edith chimed in. "What is it, Carson? You've been uncharacteristically chipper lately. I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much. Is there something going on that we should know about?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean … " began Charles awkwardly, before Lady Mary inserted herself to try to save him.

"Really, Edith!" Lady Mary scoffed. "Can't a man just be happy without your suspecting something sinister?"

Charles gave her a slight nod and a meaningful look in thanks, but his ordeal was not yet over.

"No, I think Edith may be right," insisted the countess. "You _have_ been unusually cheery, Carson. Last night at dinner, Alfred dropped the serving fork, and you didn't even scold him! What's going on?"

"Why, nothing is going on, M'Lady. Nothing at all!" Charles declared, a little too vehemently perhaps, and this time is was Old Lady Grantham who came to his rescue.

"Dear me, Cora! You really do have a nose for intrigue! A dropped piece of silverware, a foregone reprimand, and you smell a juicy story! I'm sure Carson merely wanted to spare the poor boy any embarrassment and spoke to him later, in private. Isn't that right, Carson?" the Dowager asked.

"Indeed, M'Lady," replied Charles, giving the older woman the same look of gratitude he had just given her eldest granddaughter. Her Ladyship and Lady Edith might have been fishing for gossip, but at least he had some allies in the room. Unfortunately, Lady Rose was not one of them.

"Well, I may be new here, but I do know one reason a man might be in such good spirits. Carson, have you got yourself a lady friend? Come on, you can tell us!" Lady Rose urged with great energy and enthusiasm.

Charles nearly dropped the teacup he was refilling. The young Lady Rose certainly was very forward. It took great self-control for him to appear calm. "No, M'Lady … Of course not … I … There's nothing at all … " he stammered.

"Oh, no, Rose, dear," the Dowager Countess interjected, apparently sensing his discomfort and taking pity on him. "In all the years he has been with us, no woman has been able to win the heart or even turn the head of our esteemed Butler. You see, besides being completely devoted to our house and family, he has the highest standards in every regard. I don't know of there's a woman alive who could ever be worthy of our dear Carson," Old Lady Grantham concluded with no hint of sarcasm, looking not at Rose, but directly at Charles.

"Thank you M'Lady. That is high praise, indeed." Charles acknowledged her compliment, genuinely touched. The Dowager had always supported him, but never had he been more appreciative than he was just now.

"Well, I must be off," said the older lady, finishing her tea. "Carson, will you have you the motor brought round?"

"Of course, M'Lady. Right away," Charles assented and stepped out of the room. He sent a footman to find the chauffeur. He also arranged for Mr. Barrow to finish serving the ladies their tea. Then he took a moment to catch his breath and compose himself before returning to face the ladies.

He found the Dowager already rising and quickly moved to assist her. She said her goodbyes to the younger women, and he began to escort her out.

"I'll see you off, Granny," offered Lady Mary, who then joined them.

Once the three were near the front door, Old Lady Grantham told Charles, "Carson, you mustn't be too upset by Lady Rose's impertinence. She is young and brash. She speaks without thinking."

"It's quite all right, M'Lady. She is a young Lady of this house and may speak as she wishes," Charles answered while helping her into her coat.

"Yes, well, she may be a Lady, but to speak as one _wishes_ rather than as one _ought_ is not ladylike at all," commented Lady Mary as they walked out to the waiting car.

"Indeed!" agreed her grandmother. "One would almost think her American! Any way, you must think nothing of it, Carson. If you _are_ indeed happy, then we are glad for you. Never mind the reason."

"Thank you, M'Lady. That is most kind." Charles replied earnestly, helping her into the car.

"Goodbye, Granny," said Lady Mary.

The Dowager waved, and Charles closed the car door. Then he followed Lady Mary back into the house.

"Carson, Granny is right. You must pay no mind to Mama and the girls. They're all just silly gossips, that's all. They mean no harm," she told him when they were back inside the front door.

"No harm was done, M'Lady. Think nothing of it," Charles assured her.

"There was a time, not too long ago," Lady Mary admitted, "when I would have joined them in their needling. I'm ashamed to admit that I used to be more concerned about lurid bits of gossip than I was about other people's welfare." She sighed and continued wistfully, "But if one good thing has come of Matthew's passing, it has taught me that people should seek out and embrace what happiness they may, whenever and wherever they find it. And far be it from me to begrudge others that joy if they are fortunate enough to find it. Since my own happiness has been so greatly diminished, I take solace in the good fortune of others. And so, Carson, if you _do_ have cause to be especially happy, then I am truly delighted for you."

"I don't know what to say, M'Lady," he said weakly, truly moved by her selflessness. "That you should concern yourself about me _at all_ in the midst of your present sorrows… Well, I am touched."

Before the conversation got too serious, Lady Mary lightened the mood by teasing good-naturedly, "I'm also very pleased for Mrs. Hughes. Our stoic Scot seems a bit more light-hearted herself these days. Yesterday, I heard her actually _humming_ in the Blue Room. If there's any hint of truth in what Cousin Rose says about your having a lady friend, I wonder if Mrs. Hughes hasn't found herself a nice gentleman, too. She's not easily impressed, but if he's got our somber housekeeper smiling and laughing so freely … Well, her gentleman must be quite marvelous indeed." Then she gave him a knowing smirk and returned to her tea, leaving Charles with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N We're making some progress now. Thanks for sticking with me! And once again, thanks to all who reviewed.**

Chapter 8

Elsie was tired to the bone. She had been exceptionally busy all day, and it was now very late. She was in Mr. Carson's pantry, waiting for him to come back downstairs. He was attending to His Lordship and Mr. Branson, who seemed to be in no hurry to retire this evening. His Lordship had even sent Mr. Bates home earlier with Anna, saying that he would manage changing on his own. Mr. Carson had managed to slip out at one point and had come to tell Elsie not to wait for him, that he might be quite late tonight. But of course, she would never miss a chance to spend time alone with him, and so there she was, sitting in his armchair, trying not to fall asleep …

Suddenly she became aware of Mr. Carson's hand on her shoulder, gently nudging her awake.

"Come, now, Mrs. Hughes. Be off with you, then. It was kind of you to wait, but you shouldn't have. You'll surely regret it tomorrow," he said softly, leaning over closer to speak to her.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I must have dozed off. Did His Lordship and Mr. Branson finally go up?" she said, rising from the chair.

"Yes, and so should we," he told her.

"Well, I suppose it _is_ too late for a chat and a drink now," she agreed, disappointed, looking at the clock on his mantle.

"Yes, I'm afraid so ..." he lamented. "But ... If you can afford just a few more minutes, how would you feel about a short walk? Would you care to accompany me while I perform my final checks and lock up? It won't take long."

"I would like that, yes," Elsie replied without hesitation, pleased at the chance to spend just a few more minutes with him.

"Good. So would I," he said.

As Mr. Carson made his rounds with Elsie at his side, they chatted about this and that, whispering so as not to wake anyone. Elsie saw a distinct benefit to this situation: they had to lean in close to speak to each other. Every time Mr. Carson's warm breath tickled her ear, goose bumps sprang up all over her skin. They completed their circuit at the stairs to the servants' quarters and paused at the place where they would have to part ways, where Elsie would head towards the women's corridor and Mr. Carson towards the men's.

"Thank you for coming along with me," said Mr. Carson quietly. "I enjoyed your company."

"Well, I'm glad to have been of service," she told him.

"I've kept you long enough already, but I do have one more thing to ask you tonight, if it's not too presumptuous," he entreated.

"Of course, Mr. Carson. What is it?" she asked.

"I would very much like to ... Would you mind if I ... " he stammered. Mr. Carson took a deep breath and in low tones, finally voiced his request: "Mrs. Hughes, may I kiss you goodnight?"

Elsie thought she might fall over. She could scarcely believe it. Had Mr. Carson really just asked to kiss her? He must have. He was standing there, awaiting her response, regarding her with a look that she had never seen before and couldn't quite identify. She stood frozen for a moment before she managed to nod her head and breathe a whispered, "Yes."

Mr. Carson looked around to ascertain that they were alone. Of course no one was about at this late hour. He raised his hand and placed his warm palm against her cheek. Elsie closed her eyes. While she was reveling in the feeling of his hand on her face, she was growing impatient for his lips to arrive there. When she finally felt them, she was only mildly displeased to find that they had come to rest on her other cheek. Of course, she had been hoping that he would kiss her on the mouth. But when the feel of his lips on her cheek made her feel like _this_, how could she be disappointed? She doubted that her poor heart could survive anything more intimate.

After lingering a moment longer, Mr. Carson pulled his face back just far enough to whisper, "Good night, Mrs. Hughes." As he withdrew his hand, his fingers briefly caressed her face. When she finally opened her eyes again, she dared to hope that the smile on his face mirrored the delight she felt in her own heart.

She regained the ability to speak just in time to rasp out a weak, "Good night, Mr. Carson," as he turned towards the men's quarters.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N This is not my favorite chapter. It was difficult to write, and there's no action, but it was necessary to reveal Charles's thinking. This chapter explains the title, "Small Advances."**

**Thank you for still following and for all your reviews. Please continue to tell me what you think. I love to hear from you!**

******The next chapter _is_ one of my favorites - more Mrs. Patmore! It will be posted soon. **

Chapter 9

Charles was deep in thought. He sat in his bedroom later that night, reflecting on recent happenings. It had been nearly three months since he had finally figured out a way to proceed with Mrs. Hughes, and he reviewed the events in his head.

He had been in love with her since her arrival at Downton, but no sooner had he fallen in love with her than he realized that she had become his dearest friend, too. Charles would never delude himself, thinking she might also be in love with him, and so he would not risk losing her altogether by making awkward advances or declaring his love outright. If she were to reject him, as surely she would, he thought, he would lose the one person whom he could not bear to live without. He could live without her love, but he treasured her friendship far too dearly to chance destroying it with one moment of foolishness that would certainly end in disaster.

And that had been his thinking for twenty years. But ridiculous as it might have been, Charles still held out hope - hope and a fervent longing that she _might_ feel something for him. He really didn't believe that she loved him, but there was always that nagging thought that he never could banish: _what if ... what if she did? _ If only he knew!

Of course, there were ways to find out. He could find out by sweeping her up into a passionate kiss. He could find out by proclaiming openly that he was helplessly smitten and deeply in love with her. Her reaction to either scenario would leave him in no doubt as to how she felt. But his staid and stolid nature would never allow him to do anything so dramatic. And even if he could do those things, the likely outcome was that she would rebuff him, and their friendship would be ruined forever. He was not willing to risk that.

But he _had_ to know. If he knew for sure that she didn't care for him in any romantic way, he could live with that. He would simply carry on as he had for two decades, his love for her known only to himself. But if there were a chance - any chance at all ... But how could he know? He couldn't ask her outright. He couldn't find out without making a fool of himself. Or could he?

In a moment of inspiration, Charles had struck upon a plan. It had catered to his cautious nature, his resistance to sudden, drastic change, and his reluctance to express his feelings. He had been actually rather proud of himself.

His idea had been simple. He didn't have to do anything so radical; he would begin to reveal his feelings gradually - with a series of small advances. He would start with gentle gestures to "test the waters," so to speak. If Mrs. Hughes were not receptive, he could easily pull back with minimal embarrassment. He could apologize, make a joke, and things might be uncomfortable for a day or two, but then everything would go back to normal, and he would still share his days and evenings with his most cherished friend.

But if Mrs. Hughes _did_ allow Charles's initial overtures ... Well, then he would continue in small increments. If at any point she gave any indication that she was not pleased, he would know immediately and could minimize the damage. But if she permitted the slow progression, he would be reasonably assured of her affections before he asserted his love for her.

And so, a few months ago, Charles had implemented his plan. It had proceeded even better than he could possibly have hoped. Mrs. Hughes had allowed him to hold her hand. She had permitted him to put his arm around her. And then, tonight, she had even seemed pleased when he had kissed her cheek. He was beginning to believe that she might entertain romantic feelings for him and that he just might be the luckiest man alive. And now, he was ready for more.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Another appearance by Mrs. Patmore. Many of you wrote that you enjoyed the previous chapter with Mrs. Patmore, and I have to agree that that chapter and this one were two of my favorites. As much as I enjoy all the Chelsie love in some of the other chapters, Mrs. Patmore always cracks me up. With the notable exception of the Dowager, she has some of the best lines on the show, and Lesley Nicol's delivery is spot on!**

**Once again, thank you for reviewing!**

Chapter 10

Elsie was still without a clue. She had no idea what Mr. Carson's behavior meant, or if it meant anything at all. For two decades, the butler and housekeeper had dealt with each other on a friendly but professional basis. Elsie would have liked it to be something more, of course, but she hoped she had never been too obvious about that. And for his part, Mr. Carson had never given any indication that he sought anything more than amiable companionship. Until recently.

First, to Elsie's shock and delight, Mr. Carson had asked to hold her hand, and Elsie had dared to hope that he might have feelings for her. But in the following weeks, nothing else had happened. Though they had still held hands in the evenings when they were alone, he had never said nor done anything else.

Then, just when Elsie had begun to lose hope that they would progress beyond hand-holding, he had said he'd like to put his arm around her, and she had been overjoyed. But weeks more had passed without further advancement. They had visited their bench when time and weather allowed, and each time Mr. Carson had draped his arm about her shoulders. In his pantry or her sitting room, they still held hands. Despite persisting with these gestures, however, he had done nothing more to make known his sentiments or intentions.

Finally, when her expectations had dwindled once more, he had kissed her cheek, and she had almost begun to convince herself that he might feel something. Almost.

Now, Elsie was walking to the village with Mrs. Patmore, who required a status update on the "torrid affair," as she gleefully called it, between the housekeeper and the butler.

"He hasn't gotten cheeky with you, has he?" the cook demanded.

"Really, Mrs. Patmore!" Elsie huffed.

"All right, all right. So he's held your hand and put his arm round you. Has he kissed you yet?" her friend persisted.

Elsie hesitated. That was answer enough for Mrs. Patmore.

"He has!" she squealed excitedly. "He's kissed you! Well, gracious me, it's about time! Even glaciers move faster than Mr. Carson!"

"It was all very innocent … just a friendly kiss on the cheek," insisted the housekeeper. Seeing that denying it altogether would be futile, she attempted to diminish its significance.

"On the cheek, eh? I might have known. Still, this _is_ Mr. Carson we're talking about. A kiss on the cheek from Mr. Carson may as well be a marriage proposal!" remarked Mrs. Patmore.

"I'm sure it didn't mean anything," Elsie maintained.

"He's never kissed _me_ on the cheek. It must mean _something_," said Mrs. Patmore. "But he's still told you nothing of his feelings?"

"Feelings? Hmph. You know Mr. Carson," Elsie reminded her. "The man thinks wishing someone a good morning or a pleasant evening is overly sentimental!"

"Quite right," conceded the cook. "But he _does have_ feelings. He may try to hide them, but he has them. For instance, I know exactly how he feels about you."

"Oh, do you now?" questioned Elsie with eyebrows raised. "Because I certainly don't."

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes! If ever a man loved a woman, that man loves you!" asserted Mrs. Patmore with such conviction that Elsie had to stop walking for a moment. She had to recover herself before she could respond.

"And just how do you know _that_?" she pressed, trying to sound composed.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake! The same way I know how much _you_ love _him_! You've never said it in so many words, and you've tried not to show it openly, but it's plain as the nose on your face. You may not admit it, but you can't honestly deny it, either!" Mrs. Patmore challenged.

Oh, dear. There was nothing Elsie could say to that! The plucky cook had done it again. That woman was altogether too clever.

"My, my," Mrs. Patmore gloated. "Nothing to say, have you? Well, that _is_ a first!"

Elsie was well and truly flustered now – stunned, mortified, and, indignant all at once. "Do you remember when you offered to forget the whole business in exchange for the store cupboard key? Perhaps I _should_ just give you the key and have done with it!" she grumbled.

"Oh, dear! If you're seriously considering giving me the key to the store cupboard just to keep me quiet, then you're even farther gone than I thought!" Mrs. Patmore retorted.

Elsie was spared additional interrogation when they arrived at the shop that was their destination, but she knew that her reprieve would be only temporary. Her friend – bless her and curse her! - would undoubtedly take the first opportunity to pick up the conversation right where they left off, and she dreaded the walk back to the house.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Here it is - the chapter some of you just may have been waiting for! Please tell me what you think. Reviews are wonderful. You can't know how much they mean. I monitor my inbox eagerly, anxiously awaiting them, after I post each new chapter.**

Chapter 11

Charles was frozen to the bone. He and Mrs. Hughes had just come in from a visit to their bench and a brisk walk around the grounds. It had been a cold night, but they had both been willing to suffer the elements in order to enjoy each other's company. While they had sat talking on their bench, he had held her especially close. She had snuggled in and nestled her head on his shoulder, and he had nuzzled his nose and cheek in her hair. He had even dared to press a kiss to her forehead. At that moment, Charles hadn't felt cold in the least. But by the time they had arrived back at the house, despite having a warm housekeeper clinging tightly to him, he had definitely felt the chill.

Mrs. Hughes had gone to the kitchen to make them some hot cocoa, and he was now starting a fire in the hearth in her sitting room. Once the blaze was raging satisfactorily, he stood warming himself and staring at the flames. Mrs. Hughes returned from the kitchen carrying two mugs of cocoa, handed him one, and stood next to him, facing the fire. While Charles held his mug in one hand, he slipped the other behind her and around her waist, settling it on her hip.

Previously, when he had wrapped his arm around her, he had always rested it on her shoulders. But this current arrangement - holding her by the waist, with his hand on her hip - seemed so much more proprietary, so much more ... _intimate_. The thought caused a warm flush to wash over him.

"Are you warmer now?" Charles asked her.

"Yes, much better. Thank you. And you? Have you thawed a bit?" inquired Mrs. Hughes.

"Oh, yes. I think I'm starting to feel my ears again. The fire and the cocoa help," he remarked.

Mrs. Hughes nodded, agreeing, "This is very nice."

They were both content to stand wordlessly for a time, watching the flames flicker and flare, listening to the logs crackle and snap. When they had finished their cocoa, Charles took their mugs and set them aside. Then he pulled two chairs close to the fire. Mrs. Hughes sat in one, and he lowered himself into the other. Her hands were clasped on her knees, and when he reached over to grasp one, he discovered that they were still quite cold.

"Goodness! Your hands are still freezing! Oh, I _am_ sorry, Mrs. Hughes," Charles apologized, taking both her hands in his, caressing and massaging them to warm them. "I should never have suggested going outdoors tonight in such frigid temperatures. Only, I didn't realize how cold it was until it was too late."

"Mr. Carson, please! I agreed very readily to accompany you. I'm not some delicate flower to wilt at the first hint of frost. I'll brave the cold any time, if it means I can spend the evening drinking cocoa in front of a cozy fire in such pleasant company," she assured him.

He relaxed and beamed at her assertion. Then he raised her hands to his mouth, breathed softly on them to warm them further, and kissed them tenderly.

He had been very free with his kisses tonight: first her forehead, now her hands. He wasn't sure how he had managed this unprecedented audacity, but Mrs. Hughes hadn't objected, and he found he enjoyed it tremendously. Charles fleetingly entertained the idea that maybe change and progress were not so frightening after all. Some changes might be for the better, and this was definitely one of them.

"You see?" said Mrs. Hughes after a moment, extricating one of her hands from his and raising it to touch his cheek. "All better now. They're warm as toast. Thank you." Then she curled her fingers delicately around his ear and noted, "It seems your ears have recovered as well."

Indeed, Charles was _quite_ recovered from the cold. Her touch had caused a sudden flush in his cheeks, his ears, and most of the rest of him, too. Even his toes were now warm.

"Well, as you've said, enduring cold extremities does seem a small price to pay for such an enjoyable evening," he told her quietly.

The couple sat serenely in front of the fire, holding hands. Sitting as they were, Charles wasn't able to put his arm around Mrs. Hughes, as he would have liked, but when she leaned slightly forward, he began to run his hand gently over her upper back and shoulders. She must have found it soothing, because she smiled and sighed contentedly. He felt immense satisfaction in knowing that his caresses pleased her, and so he continued his attentions. Before long, he could tell she was becoming drowsy, though she tried not to show it and would never admit it.

"All right, then. I've kept you long enough. It's past your bedtime, young lady," Charles announced with great authority. Though he was loath to see their time together end, he still had the best part of the evening to look forward to. Their ritual goodnight kiss had become his favorite part of each day, and he anticipated it eagerly from the moment he woke every morning.

Mrs. Hughes started to object, saying something about being neither tired nor young, but he shook his head and silenced her by taking her hands and pulling her to her feet.

"I'll sort things here," he promised. "It's late. You should go up and get some rest."

"So should you. You must be just as tired," she countered.

"I am," he confessed. "And as soon as everything is settled here, I'll be off to sleep myself. I won't be another minute."

"Very well, then," she sighed, still holding his hands. "If you insist ... I'll say good night."

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes," he said, bending towards her.

Mrs. Hughes closed her eyes, apparently waiting for her usual kiss on the cheek. While her eyes were shut, Charles studied her beautiful face. He was certain that a lovelier woman never drew breath. He placed a hand on one of her cheeks and prepared to kiss the other.

He _intended_ to kiss her cheek - he really did - but then he made the mistake of allowing his gaze to linger too long over her lips. The lips he had longed to kiss for two decades. The lips that spoke to him in the lilting Scottish brogue that so beguiled him. The lips that he had kissed so many nights in his dreams. The lips that tonight, at long last, he would kiss while awake.

He knew that he really should ask her permission, but just then, he couldn't speak at all. And so he did what he could no longer resist doing.

Charles leaned closer, ever so slowly, closed his eyes, and stopped when his lips just barely touched hers. Mrs. Hughes let out a little gasp, obviously expecting his kiss to fall elsewhere. He held his lips perfectly still against hers, making his intent perfectly clear but allowing her the opportunity to withdraw. He could feel her warm, soft breath against his face, and for a moment, he held his own breath.

In that instant, time seemed to stand still. Mrs. Hughes had not moved, and Charles was savoring the delicious anticipation. The preceding twenty-year wait for this kiss had been excruciating, but the final seconds just before it happened were exquisite. Finally, when he could wait no longer, he opened his lips just enough to close them again gingerly over hers. When she didn't object, he continued to place slow, timid kisses on her soft, sweet lips.

Charles hardly dared to believe what was happening. After so many years of longing, he was kissing his beloved, the most beautiful woman in the world. He had always wished, hoped, dreamed, imagined ... But never expected. Never believed. Never. And even more astonishing was the realization that the actual experience so far surpassed any of his previous imaginings.

Unfortunately for Charles, his ecstasy was short-lived. After a few seconds, Mrs. Hughes whimpered softly and raised her trembling hands, seeming unsure what to do with them. She placed them tentatively on his chest, then hesitated. For a moment, he thought she might slide them up around his neck and return his kisses, but instead she moved away. She was gasping and panting, and she seemed ready to sob. When Mrs. Hughes hastily retreated from the room with her hand covering her mouth and tears in her eyes, Charles was crushed.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Here's Chapter 12, explaining Elsie's thinking and behavior.**

**Thank you so much for the overwhelming reviews for the previous chapter. I can't even tell you how happy it made me to receive them and read them all! Please keep reviewing!**

Chapter 12

Elsie was in hysterics. She had fled from her parlor without apology or explanation, leaving poor Mr. Carson to wonder what on earth he could possibly have done wrong and why his housekeeper had suddenly gone mad. Now she was lying on her bed, sobbing violently into her pillow, trying not to wake anyone. She was certain she had ruined the best two best things that had ever happened to her. In one, insane, terrible instant, she had driven away her true love _and_ her dearest friend.

The man she loved had just kissed her, and she had run away! She had waited so long for that kiss! She had thought of it every day and dreamed of it every night for twenty years. Tonight, it had actually happened. And instead of returning his kiss with ardor, she had blundered about and gone to pieces. Instead of professing her love, she had scampered off like a frightened rabbit.

What pained Elsie now more than ruining any chance at happiness with the man she loved, however, was the loss of her most precious friend. She could bear to live without his love. She already had, for many years. But she could not endure the loss of his friendship. She relied on his daily presence, his constant support, his reassuring smile, their evenings together.

How could she ever face Mr. Carson again? What could she say to him? How could she possibly explain her behavior?

And why, exactly, _had_ she run away? Elsie wasn't sure herself. At the time, she hadn't been able to think clearly. Those lips had been kissing her. The lips she had longed to kiss for two decades. The lips that spoke to her in the deep, booming voice that so enchanted her. The lips that had kissed her so many nights in her dreams. The lips that tonight, at long last, had kissed her while awake.

And everything might have been just fine, if she had been able to kiss him back just as sweetly and innocently as he had kissed her. But she couldn't kiss him sweetly and innocently. When his lips had finally met hers, she could only have reacted passionately. He had kissed her as a gentleman kisses a lady, reverently and respectfully, but she had wanted to kiss him as a woman kisses a man - a man she has loved for more years than she would care to count - vigorously and enthusiastically. Not improperly or indecently, but unreservedly and whole-heartedly. She had wanted to kiss him with none of the restraint she had employed for so long. She had wanted to fling her arms about him, hold him tightly, kiss him repeatedly until they were both breathless and senseless, and then whisper her love in his ear.

And that was the problem. She had almost done just that. It had required enormous self-control _not_ to, because if she had responded as she would have liked, she certainly would have scared him off. It had taken Mr. Carson months to progress from hesitantly holding her hand to nervously winding his arm around her to bashfully kissing her cheek. What would he have done if she had thrown herself at him like some desperate, wanton woman? Whatever his exact response, Elsie was certain it wouldn't have been favorable.

Still weeping, but no longer gasping and panting, she sat up on her bed, clutching her pillow. Having regained some of her senses after her earlier frenzy, she realized that in all her jumbled thoughts and feelings, she had overlooked the most important revelation of the evening. She had been so worried about her own irrational behavior during and after the ill-fated encounter that she hadn't thought about the implications of Mr. Carson's behavior. Elsie smiled in spite of herself.

Mr. Carson had _kissed_ her! He had kissed her full on the lips. Not on the hand or the forehead or the cheek, but squarely on the mouth! All their prior contact, for two decades back, could be construed as comforting or encouraging, or more recently, even friendly. Holding hands, wrapping an arm around someone, and even kisses on the cheek could be interpreted simply as tokens of affection between friends. But the way he had kissed her tonight was by no means just friendly. His kisses were slow, lingering, sensual, and most decidedly romantic in nature. It could only mean one thing, one thing she ventured not to believe until just now: Mr. Carson must love her.

After she came to this epiphany, her spirits lifted. At last, she had reason to believe that the love she felt for her dearest was reciprocated. In recent months, she had refused to accept for certain what Mrs. Patmore had been telling her all along, lest she be disappointed. She had wished, hoped, dreamed, imagined ... But never expected. Never believed. Never. Until now. After having felt his love through his kisses, she no longer doubted. Elsie finally allowed herself to believe that Mr. Carson was as much in love with her as she was with him.

But now, she had hurt him. He had finally got up the nerve to kiss her. She could only imagine what it must have cost him. It involved both a momentous change and the necessity to reveal his feelings. What must he have felt when she ran away? His pride would have been injured, and he certainly would have thought that she didn't love him. She had to make things right, tell him how much she really did love him, ask his forgiveness. She couldn't bear the thought that she had caused him such pain. She would run back to him right now if she could, but she could hardly go to his bedroom in the middle of the night.

She resolved that she would go to him first thing in the morning and tell him everything. What had she to lose? If he would not forgive her, then she would be no worse off. But if she could explain and make him understand …well, then she had everything to gain. And Elsie promised herself that if she should be fortunate enough to have the chance to kiss Mr. Carson again, neither of them would be running away.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Lady Mary makes another appearance. I don't know that Charles would reveal his feelings to anyone (intentionally), but he's always been so supportive of her that I thought it might be time she returned the favor. I hope I haven't pushed the limits of credibility here. As I've said before, I don't exactly like Mary, but I do think Charles can bring out the good in her. Also, I couldn't resist working in a bit of a scene from Series 2, Episode 2, where Charles is in bed after his nervous attack, Mary visits him, and he gives her some advice about Matthew. I hope it worked.**

**Thank you to all my faithful reviewers. I do so enjoy every word! I only hope that some of you are enjoying reading this half as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Let me know what you think! Please?**

Chapter 13

Charles was in the depths of despair. He had never felt so miserable in his entire life. He had been such a fool. Everything had been going so well up until just a few hours ago. He had spent a delightful evening with Mrs. Hughes. Why did he have to go and ruin everything by kissing her? She must have thought him a randy old sod, practically forcing himself on her like that. He had been foolish to think that she loved him, too. She had simply been humoring him when she allowed his overtures, placating a ridiculous old man. Oh, he was sure she held him in high regard - they had been such good friends for years. She just wasn't in love with him.

And now, things would never be the same again. He would apologize, and she would forgive him, of course, being kind soul that she was, but any subsequent relations would be strained and awkward. She wouldn't seek out his company or ask his advice. She wouldn't want to walk with him or spend her evenings talking with him. The shared laughter, secret smiles, comforting touches, knowing glances, private moments - all of them, gone.

After having sat for hours in his pantry with his head in his hands, he decided he should check through the house and go up to his room. He wouldn't sleep; of that, he was sure. But he needed to move about, and after staring at the floor in his pantry for so long, at least his bedroom floor would be something different to look at.

He began by locking up and turning off the lights downstairs. Then he proceeded to the check the main floor. Lastly, he started through the hallway past the family's bedrooms on his way to the servants' quarters in the attic.

As he neared the nursery, he heard a baby whimpering and a woman's voice making low shushing noises to comfort the child. He peeked his head in, and in the dim light he could just make out the figure of Lady Mary in her nightclothes, rocking and attempting to console a very discontented Master George.

Charles wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone, but he couldn't just walk on by. Besides, he might be glad of a distraction right now.

"M'Lady?" he said quietly, so as not to startle her or further upset the infant in her arms.

"Oh. Carson," she answered. "Why are you awake at this hour?"

"I might ask you the same question, M'Lady," he told her.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, shifting the fussing baby from her lap to her shoulder. "My dear little man is rather unhappy at the moment."

"Yes, but what about Nanny? Surely she should take care of him so you can go back to sleep."

"She was here, but I sent her back to bed. I don't mind, really. I couldn't sleep any way, thinking about ... Well, I just wish the poor little chap weren't so upset. I think he's teething."

"Oh, I see. He must be very uncomfortable. Fortunately for you both, I happen to know a secret remedy."

"Do you?" Lady Mary looked at him, surprised.

"Indeed I do, M'Lady. May I?" he asked, holding out his arms to receive the young Master George. "If you'll allow me to carry the lad … Come with me, please. I have just the thing."

Lady Mary handed him the crying child and rose to follow him. He led her through the house to his pantry, where he deftly retrieved a bottle of brandy and two snifters with one hand, all the while holding the squirming babe carefully in his other arm.

Seeing the brandy, Lady Mary chuckled, "A glass of brandy might make _you and me_ feel better, but I don't see what it's going to do for _him_."

"Wait and see, M'Lady. Wait and see," he assured her, while motioning for her to sit down in one of his chairs and handing Master George back to her for a moment.

Charles opened the bottle, poured two glasses, set one down on his small table, and handed the other to Lady Mary. Then he took the child from her again and sat down, carefully positioning him on his lap. After dipping his finger in his glass of brandy, he placed it on the little one's lips. When Master George opened his mouth to let out a cry, Charles gently worked his finger inside and rubbed a trace of brandy on the baby's gums. The infant calmed immediately and began sucking on Charles's finger. Lady Mary, who had been watching the whole process intently, opened her mouth in amazement.

"How does the Butler of Downton Abbey know how to soothe a teething baby?" she asked with an amused smile.

"A butler can't reveal all his secrets, M'Lady. Master George isn't the first baby I've known during my time in this house. I seem to recall that you had rather a rough go of it yourself with your first tooth. Drove your parents and nanny mad with worry."

"I'm not surprised. I've always been difficult."

"Not difficult, M'Lady. Strong-willed, perhaps. There is a difference."

"That's a very charitable way of putting it, Carson. But then, you've always thought too well of me."

"Nonsense," he scoffed.

They sat in silence for a time. The young Master George had fallen asleep sucking on Charles's finger, and Charles and Lady Mary sipped their brandy. Though he had initially welcomed the distraction from his troubles and the company of Lady Mary and her son, Charles soon became melancholy again.

"You still haven't answered my question," she reminded him, speaking quietly so as not to wake the boy. "Why are you awake at this hour? Surely you hadn't remained on duty half the night just in case you'd be needed to calm a teething infant."

"No, M'Lady, I hadn't," Charles admitted, smiling sadly at her comment, but not answering her question. She had always been so perceptive.

"Carson, what is it? Lately, you've been happier than I've ever known you to be. But tonight … Well, I've never seen you like this. You look as if you've lost your best friend."

"I'm afraid I have done, M'Lady."

The words had just slipped out. He really should have said that nothing was the matter, that he was perfectly all right. But he was feeling so wretched that he had said exactly what he had been thinking.

"Oh, Carson," said Lady Mary sympathetically. She reached out and covered his hand with her own. "What's happened? Have you and Mrs. Hughes had a misunderstanding?"

That day at tea, she had hinted that she was aware of his regard for Mrs. Hughes, and so her keen assessment of the situation didn't surprise him.

"Yes, I suppose you could say exactly that. Apparently, I misunderstood very badly."

"Misunderstood what? I'm sure the two of you can work it out. Have you told her how you feel?"

"Well … Not quite, M'Lady."

"May I give you one piece of advice, Carson? Tell her what's in your heart. If you love her, let her know. Then even if she doesn't love you - but I'm sure she does - you won't be sorry. But if you don't tell her, you could regret it all your life long."

"And if she _doesn't _love me?"

"Doesn't love you!" scoffed Lady Mary. "As if any woman in her right mind could stop herself loving you."

Charles smiled at her affectionately, recalling a similar conversation they had had years ago, about Mr. Matthew.

Just then, the very woman they were discussing appeared at the open door to his pantry. Charles's heart raced, his face flushed, and his breathing became erratic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, M'Lady. I didn't know you were in here," apologized Mrs. Hughes.

Neither Charles nor Lady Mary had realized how late it had gotten - or rather how early. It was now morning, and Mrs. Hughes must have come down to start her day. Charles was thankful that they had been talking quietly and hoped she hadn't overheard.

"I was just going. Carson's been helping me console a teething baby, and I've been boosting his confidence," Lady Mary informed Mrs. Hughes.

She stood and took her sleeping son from Charles, telling him, "Thank you for the brandy, Carson. I think it helped me as much as it helped him. I know what you said about a butler revealing all his secrets, but I'm glad you've shared at least that one with me. And remember what I told you. A very wise man once gave me the same advice. I wish only that I had listened to him sooner."

The young woman left his pantry, bidding Mrs. Hughes a good day on her way out.

"I was hoping to speak with you, Mr. Carson. May I come in?" asked Mrs. Hughes.

"Yes, please, Mrs. Hughes. I wanted to talk to you, too," said Charles, standing and moving in her direction.

Mrs. Hughes walked into his pantry and closed the door behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N Well, here it is, Chapter 14! I hope it lives up to everyone's expectation. I'd hate to disappoint. Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Thank you for all the reviews of previous chapters; they really do mean so much to me.**

Chapter 14

Elsie was on pins and needles. She had come down early to find Mr. Carson, hoping to speak to him alone before anyone else was up and about. She hadn't expected to find him with Lady Mary and Master George, but fortunately, Lady Mary had had the good grace to excuse herself quickly. Elsie now found herself face to face with Mr. Carson, mentally preparing herself for the most important conversation of her life.

Deciding it was best to get right to the point, she began earnestly, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carson. I - "

"No, Mrs. Hughes, please," he interrupted her. "You have no need to apologize. It's I who owe you an apology. I have something to say, and I'd be grateful if you would just hear me out. Please?"

"Very well," she consented.

Mr. Carson took a deep breath and began, "There's something I've wanted to tell you for such a long time, but I've been too afraid of losing your friendship. Your companionship means the world to me, and I don't know how I would live without it. I don't think I _can_ live without it, but I fear that last night, I ruined everything."

"Mr. Carson - " Elsie tried to explain, but he cut her off again.

"Please, Mrs. Hughes. Just let me say my piece. I _need_ to say this," he insisted, looking at her with a solemn expression. "I can't possibly make things any worse, so I may as well come right out and tell you. I love you, Mrs. Hughes. I've loved you since you first arrived here, and no matter what else happens, I will love you for the rest of my days."

Elsie found herself overwhelmed by his words. She covered her mouth with her hand and began to cry softly while Mr. Carson continued.

"I shouldn't have kissed you like that last night, and I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. I know that you don't feel the same way about me, but I think you value our friendship as much as I do. I regret making things uncomfortable between us, and I hope we can go back to the way things were. I will be content just to spend time talking with you and enjoying your company. I can't stop loving you, but I promise I'll be a gentleman and refrain from any more romantic overtures. I just can't bear losing my dearest friend," he said, and with his last words, Mr. Carson's voice cracked, his eyes became moist, and he looked down at the floor.

Sensing that he would now let her have her say, Elsie reached out to put her hand on his cheek and tried to speak through her tears and sobs.

"Mr. Carson, I do value our friendship, but I can't go back to the way things used to be, not now that I know you love me," she said.

He was still looking down and nodded his head as if resigning himself to some terrible fate.

Elsie moved her hand from his cheek, placed it under his chin, gently lifted his face so that she was looking him squarely in the eyes, and finally revealed her heart to him.

"I love you, too, Mr. Carson," she confessed. "You are my most precious friend and respected colleague, but you are much more than that, as well. I don't want to go back to our previous dealings. I'd like to continue moving ahead."

Mr. Carson looked stunned. His eyes were wide, and his jaw was slack.

"But … when I kissed you … " he stuttered.

"When you kissed me, I couldn't think properly. You may be surprised to know the effect your kisses had on me; I was quite overcome," admitted Elsie.

Mr. Carson blushed and smiled.

"I thought you had left because you hadn't wanted me to kiss you, because you hadn't wanted to kiss me," he said. "I was afraid I had frightened you away."

"Quite the reverse, actually," Elsie corrected him. "I had wanted _very badly_ to kiss you, and I was afraid that if I had kissed you the way I would have liked, _I_ would have frightened _you_ away."

"What?" asked Mr. Carson, looking confused.

Now it was Elsie's turn to go red in the face and avert her eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Carson. It took twenty years for you to ask to hold my hand. It took months more before you put your arm round me and kissed my cheek. And then finally, you … _kissed_ me. And I went to pieces. You were being so gentle and tender, but all I wanted to do was to throw my arms about you, pull you close, kiss you senseless, and tell you how much I love you. I almost couldn't stop myself, but I knew that I would scare you off if I did," she explained.

"I can assure you, Mrs. Hughes, should you ever grant me the favor of kissing me like _that_, I shan't be going anywhere. I'm sure I shall collapse into a heap on the floor."

At that, they both laughed nervously. Mr. Carson reached out, carefully situated his hands on Elsie's hips, and slowly drew her close. Elsie raised her hands and settled them on his chest. He leaned his head down and rested his forehead and nose against hers. When he spoke again, his breath tickled her lips.

"Mrs. Hughes, will you do me the honor of calling me Charles and permit me the privilege of calling you Elsie?" Mr. Carson asked gallantly.

"Yes … _Charles_," she answered happily, savoring the way his name felt rolling off her tongue and lips.

"Thank you … _Elsie_," said Charles, grinning. "Of course, I'll still call you Mrs. Hughes around the staff and the family, at least temporarily, but I'd like to discuss that, too."

"Oh?" Elsie questioned, hoping with all her heart that he was indeed implying what she thought he might be. She played along. "And what else would you like to call me?"

"What I've wanted to call you all along – _my wife_," he answered simply, fixing his gaze on her intently. He took her hands in his, dropped to one knee, and looked up at her before continuing, "Elsie … my Love … Would you consider marrying this sad, old fool and making him the happiest, luckiest, old fool who ever lived?"

"Oh, Charles!" Elsie said, through choked sobs. "You know I would never marry a fool! But if this dear, sweet, lovely man I see before me is asking, then my answer can only be, 'Yes!'"

Charles stood and gathered Elsie in his arms as she wound her arms around his neck. Amid tears and sobs, smiles and laughter, he showered her face with delicate kisses. Finally, when the frenzy subsided, he pulled his face back to stare into her eyes.

"And now, I believe there's only one more matter we have left to resolve," he said, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"And what might that be?" she asked.

"I would very much like for you to kiss me senseless," Charles replied cheekily.

Elsie was only too happy to oblige him.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N Here's chapter 15. Thank you so much for all the reviews! I'm overwhelmed! My regular reviewers have been marvelous, and I've responded to you all via PM's. I've also had some VERY flattering reviews from guests, to whom I can't respond personally, but you know who you are, and my ego thanks you!**

Chapter 15

Charles was in a haze. Elsie's kisses did, in fact, make him _quite _senseless. Her kisses were modest and proper, very lady-like, yet no less intoxicating because of their innocence. He could hardly fathom how just the lightest touch of her lips on his could render him so helpless.

After the first, precious kisses, there was another flurry of tears and smiles, sobs and laughter from them both. They embraced each other joyously, Charles cradling Elsie's head to his chest and Elsie squeezing Charles around his middle. Charles thought he must be the luckiest man in the world to have won Elsie's heart. Ten minutes ago, he thought he had lost her forever, and now, here he was, holding his beloved in his arms and looking forward to making her his wife.

After some happy minutes spent just holding each other and being held, Elsie looked up at Charles and teased, "Well, Mr. Carson, for a man so morally opposed to change, you certainly have undergone quite a transformation. You've gone from being Mr. Carson, the unflappable Butler of Downton Abbey to being Charles, _my_ Charles, who loves me and kisses me tenderly and is going to marry me."

Charles had to laugh at himself. "For the record, my Dear," he informed her, "I've always been your Charles who loves you. That part is nothing new. I've just been too foolish to tell you until now. As for the kissing and the marrying ... Well, I'll not lie to you; you've turned my world upside down. But I find I rather like it that way, and I'm in no particular hurry to set it to rights."

And to prove his sincerity, he dipped his head and kissed Elsie, _his_ Elsie, again. He held her gaze while he brushed a few loose strands of hair from her forehead and planted a kiss there. He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers and ran his fingertip down her nose, then kissed her cheek and the tip of her nose. He caressed her chin between his fingers and thumb and kissed her chin, as well. Finally, he traced her lips with his thumb and then followed with his own lips. Elsie responded enthusiastically, returning his kisses while sliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, tickling the back of his neck and twining her fingers in his hair.

When finally they separated, breathless, Elsie sighed, "Oh, Charles. I had no idea it was possible to be so happy! I wish we had done this years ago."

"Hmmm ... I'm not sure I agree with you." Charles said thoughtfully. "I have a different view of things."

"Oh?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "Would you care to share that view with me?"

"Well, it's rather like Mrs. Patmore's treacle tart. When she has just baked it in the morning, it smells delicious. I must confess that I have, on occasion, sneaked into the kitchen while it has been cooling and have stolen a piece. Or two, perhaps," he admitted. "And while it has always tasted very good, I have never been able to enjoy it fully so soon after breakfast. However, on those occasions when I have resisted the temptation to indulge myself so early in the day and have waited until after dinner, her tart has always tasted that much better. When I have walked back and forth past the kitchen all day, savoring the smell, gazing longingly at the pastry, and working up an appetite, the anticipation makes the eventual enjoyment so much sweeter when the time finally comes."

"Charles Carson! I'm not sure if that's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, or the most insulting. I'll appreciate your observation for the sentiment behind it, but I don't think I like being compared to a tart that's been sitting around for a good, long time!" said Elsie, with feigned indignation.

"That's not what I intended," he chuckled. "I simply meant that after twenty years, finally holding you in my arms is all the sweeter because I've desired it for so long."

"I was only teasing you," she reassured him. "I feel the same way."

He pulled his head back to look at her, still holding her firmly, and said, "It pains me to end this perfect moment, but I fear that we'll be interrupted before long. Surely the others will be up and about soon, if they're not already, and I still need to go clean myself up and change for the day."

"I'm sure you're right," Elsie concurred, "though I don't know how I'm supposed to go calmly about my business after the events of the past hour."

"Elsie," he said, thrilled to be addressing her by her given name, and once again pressing his forehead to hers. "I'm so happy right now, and so proud. I'd love to tell the whole world that Elsie Hughes has agreed to be my bride. But just for today, Love, can we keep it between us? There's so much more to talk about. Do you think we can have a nice, long chat tonight, and we'll tell everyone tomorrow?"

"A talk this evening sounds wonderful, Charles," she answered him, "but I sincerely doubt that I shall be able to keep the smile from my face and pretend all day long that I'm not the happiest woman alive. I won't say anything, but there's bound to be some suspicion. Mrs. Patmore is very astute, you know."

"So is Lady Mary, I'm afraid," Charles added.

"And then, of course, there's Mr. Barrow," Elsie pointed out. "I'm sure he's hiding in your silver cupboard right now and has heard our every word."

"At the moment, I don't care a fig about Mr. Barrow or anyone else except you. Let people think what they will. Today will pass quickly enough, and tonight will be here before we know it. And tonight, I plan to hold my bride-to-be in my arms for many blissful hours, to tell her how beautiful she is, and to show her how much I adore her," he said, smiling soppily.

"I'll let you get on with your day, then," she said, stretching up to kiss his cheek and whispering in his ear, "I love you, Charles."

"And _I_ love _you_, Elsie," he responded, raising her hand to his mouth and kissing it.

He walked with her to the door and opened it for her. When they stepped out into the corridor, he was surprised to find Lady Mary still downstairs, holding Master George and talking with Mrs. Patmore.

"M'Lady. Mrs. Patmore," he greeted them, a bit taken aback.

"Good morning, Carson, Mrs. Hughes," replied Lady Mary, smiling. "I trust you are both well this morning?"

"Very well, indeed, M'Lady," Elsie responded, returning her smile. "And I trust Master George is feeling better?"

The infant was awake now, and did, in fact, look content.

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Patmore has just given him some milk. I'm going to take him upstairs to Nanny now," said Lady Mary.

"The lad's got quite an appetite," commented Mrs. Patmore. "He's growing into a strong, healthy, young boy."

"I'll be off, then. Thank you for the milk, Mrs. Patmore," Lady Mary said and then turned to face Charles and Elsie. "Mrs. Hughes. Carson. I wish you a pleasant day," she said, turning to leave.

The three servants acknowledged her, nodding and saying, "Good day, M'Lady," more or less in unison. Then they stood there looking awkwardly at each other for a moment before Charles detected a familiar aroma.

"Mrs. Patmore," Charles ventured hopefully, "That couldn't possibly be treacle tart that I smell. Could it?"

"It could, and it is. And you keep your hands off it until after dinner, you troublesome man!" she scolded, walking away and leaving Charles and Elsie grinning at each other.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N Thank you all for your kind responses! I love all your comments! Your encouraging words keep me writing!**

**I had not originally intended to include Mrs. Patmore in this chapter, but she knocked on my door unexpectedly, and of course I had to let her in!**

**Please leave a review! You have no idea how excited I get when I read each one!**

Chapter 16

Elsie was still in shock. She could hardly believe that Charles had just declared his love and had asked her to marry him. And now she was supposed to behave as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening!

She sat next to him at breakfast and couldn't stop grinning. He, for his part, seemed just as deliriously happy. For so many years, the housekeeper of Downton Abbey had sat next to her butler. Today, Elsie Hughes, bride-to-be, sat next to Charles Carson, her intended husband.

As discreet as they tried to be, they couldn't completely contain their mirth; they could only try, unsuccessfully, for the most part, to subdue their responses. The pair attracted some curious looks from the others at the table, and Mrs. Patmore gave Elsie a suspicious, sideways glance every time she caught her eye, but everyone was prudent enough not to inquire.

At one point, Charles rested his leg lightly against Elsie's under the table and gave her a shy smile. Elsie smiled back at him, dropped her hand casually to her lap, and covertly reached over to squeeze his knee.

Before today, any such contact - a stray swipe of their fingers against each other as they passed a dish, an unintended brush of their knees as one or the other sat down or stood up - while thrilling, had been accidental. This morning, Charles had deliberately placed his leg next to hers, and Elsie had purposely touched his knee. The unspoken confirmation of their affection delighted her to no end, and the secret they shared made it all the more exciting.

When breakfast was over, and the rest of the staff were heading off to their various morning tasks, Charles said to Elsie, "Oh, Mrs. Hughes. I was wondering if I might speak to you about a certain matter. Do you have a moment?"

"Certainly, Mr. Carson," she replied. "Why don't you come to my sitting room?"

He followed her down the corridor and into her sitting room and closed the door behind them. She hadn't even had time to turn around before she felt Charles standing against her back. He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek from behind. Elsie purred in contentment before turning around to kiss him in return.

"Now, what is it you wanted to talk about, Charles?" she asked.

"How soon will you marry me, Elsie?" he wanted to know.

She was surprised at the forthrightness of his question, but answered just as directly, "I would have married you any day for the last two decades, and I will marry you any day during the next two, but I would prefer that it were sooner rather than later."

He looked overjoyed, beaming at her enthusiastic response.

"Oh, Elsie," sighed Charles. "I know I said that we should talk this evening before we tell anyone, but I can't wait. The way I see it, there are only two questions we need to discuss: how soon we can be wed, and whether to ask the family for a cottage or our own room in the house. It seems we both want to marry as soon as possible, and I'm fairly certain we'll agree on our living arrangements, but I'll not presume to speak for you. That would be rather an inauspicious beginning for a marriage, I think."

"You're a wise man, my Dear," Elsie remarked with a smirk. "You'll make an excellent husband, I'm sure."

"I certainly mean to _try_," he assured her. "But now the other matter. Where are we to live?"

"I think you're right when you say that we'll agree. As nice as it might be to have our own cottage, I can't see you ever living away from the house, and to be honest, I don't think I'd be happy, either. But do you really think the family would arrange a room in the house for us?" Elsie wondered.

"I don't see why not. There are whole wings of this house that are entirely vacant. We could occupy one of the rooms quite conveniently. We would be far enough away from others to have some privacy, yet near enough to be reached quickly if we are needed," he reasoned.

"Then I suppose it's all settled," she said.

"Shall we ask to speak to Her Ladyship and His Lordship right away? If they are agreeable, we can see Mr. Travis this afternoon. It occurs to me that tomorrow is Sunday, and if we speak with him today, the first banns can be read at tomorrow morning's services," he pointed out.

She couldn't resist teasing him a bit, saying, "My goodness, Charles! For a man who has always moved forward so cautiously, you seem to be in quite a hurry now!"

"I'll not deny it, Love. I am _very_ eager to make you my wife," he declared.

"Oh, Charles," Elsie said, lifting her hand to his face. "I'm rather impatient myself. I can't regret a single day of the past twenty years. I have had the privilege of working every day alongside my best friend, my trusted confidante, my loyal supporter, and my true love. Even if we have not been man and wife, I have spent every day loving you and being loved in return, though I may not have known that until now. The days I have spent with you have been the happiest I've known. However, I look forward to happier days still, when I am your wife. And so, yes, I would like to speak to the family and Mr. Travis right away."

"I do have one small request, before we see them," Charles said. "Will you mind terribly if I tell Lady Mary before we speak to the rest of the family? She has guessed at my feelings for you and has been very encouraging. And I do believe a certain red-headed cook will be very angry if you don't let her in on our little secret before we announce it to the rest of the staff."

"She will indeed," laughed Elsie. "In fact, I'm afraid she'll have my head!"

"Good. I'll go and find Lady Mary, you tell Mrs. Patmore, and then we'll speak to the family. Now, come here and let me give you a proper kiss," he said, drawing her near.

"Mmmm … I do rather like this new arrangement," she mused, melting into his embrace and kissing him sweetly.

"I quite agree," he concurred, returning her kiss.

Just then, there was a knock at her parlor door, and the amorous couple had no time to spring apart before Mrs. Patmore entered, beginning, "Mrs. Hughes, I - " before she realized that the butler and housekeeper were standing before her holding each other affectionately.

"I'm sorry. I didn't - But you're - Oh, for the love of Pete! If the two of you are going to carry on like this in the middle of the day, at least lock the door!" cried an exasperated Mrs. Patmore, throwing up her arms in frustration and turning to leave.

Red-faced as they were, Elsie and Charles had to laugh at the cook's reaction.

"Wait, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie called her back, between giggles. "Mr. Carson and I have something to tell you."

"Do you now? And what might that be? That the two of you have been madly in love for the past two centuries and are just now bothering to do something about it? I already know!" Mrs. Patmore huffed.

"Perhaps you do," Elsie responded, "but do you know also that we are to be married?"

That did it. Mrs. Patmore was well and truly shocked. Apparently, while finding her two friends in a loving embrace had not fazed her in the least, the fact that they were to be wed left her with nothing to say.

"Well! Had I known it would leave you speechless, I would have married Mr. Carson years ago!" Elsie joked.

Still lost for words, the cook thrust herself at the other two, trying to wrap them both up in her arms. Finding that she couldn't satisfactorily embrace them both at the same time, she hugged Elsie first and then squeezed Charles's face between her hands and kissed him noisily on the lips.

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. I gather from your reaction that you approve?" asked Charles good-naturedly.

"Approve!? I've been praying for it for years!" she answered.

"Well, then, I thank you for your assistance in that regard. I'll leave you ladies to it. I'm going to find Lady Mary. Mrs. Hughes, I will ask Her Ladyship and His Lordship to meet with us in half an hour or so. Will you be ready then?" Charles asked.

"I certainly will, Mr. Carson," she answered.

He kissed her cheek and started towards the door before pausing and returning to kiss Mrs. Patmore on the cheek as well.

"Oh, you cheeky devil! Be off with you now!" Mrs. Patmore blustered at Charles. Then turning to Elsie, she commented, "You certainly have lit a fire under that one!"


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N This is a re-post of Chapter 17, modified slightly from the original one I posted. I just wanted to include a bit about Charles, a young Lady Mary, a sixpence, and a kiss. I forgot it the first time, so I went back and added it. Thanks for reviewing! Your comments keep me going!**

Chapter 17

Charles _was_ in a hurry; Elsie was right. He had spent twenty years wishing that he could tell her how he felt, hoping that she felt the same way, and fearing that pursuing her would ruin their friendship. Now that he had confessed his love and been assured that his feelings were reciprocated, he didn't want to wait another minute. Thankfully, Elsie was just as keen. He concentrated on the steps he needed to take to make her his wife and set about achieving that aim posthaste. With singleness of purpose, he set out to locate Lady Mary and found her in the library. Fortunately, she was alone.

"M'Lady, may I have a word?" Charles asked.

"Of course, Carson. What is it? You certainly seem in better spirits than you were earlier. I trust that you and Mrs. Hughes have reached an understanding, and all is well?" Lady Mary inquired.

"Yes, M'Lady, we have come to an understanding, and all is very well, indeed. Actually, I came to thank you for your earlier advice and encouragement. I did exactly as you suggested and informed Mrs. Hughes of my affections. Happily, my sentiments are requited. In fact, we are to be married as soon as we are able. We intend to speak to Her Ladyship and His Lordship at once and to see Mr. Travis this afternoon, but I feel I should apprise you first. You've been extremely supportive, and I want to express my gratitude," he said.

"Oh, Carson!" cried Lady Mary. She stood and embraced him, saying, "I'm so very happy for you! That's wonderful news!"

"Thank you. Your good wishes are most welcome. I only regret the timing, with the house so recently coming out of mourning …" said Charles, apologetically.

"Nonsense!" she insisted. "We need some good news, and this is just the thing. Oh, Mama and the girls will be so excited! They'll also be _insufferable_ after having been proven right about their suspicions. But don't worry. Papa and Granny and I will handle them."

"I've no doubt you will," he replied, thinking what a formidable trio the Dowager, the Earl, and his eldest daughter could be.

Lady Mary paused for a moment before continuing gravely, "I must admit, Carson, that as happy as I am for you, I am terribly jealous of Mrs. Hughes. I've been rather used to having you all to myself – being your favorite and enjoying all your attentions. And now I shall have to share you. Do promise you won't abandon me completely."

"I would never, M'Lady! Never think such a thing!" Charles gasped, appalled at the very notion.

"Good. I'm very glad to hear it. You're a true gem, Carson," she told him, favoring him with a dainty kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, M'Lady. That is most kind," he responded, his face flushing fiercely. "I suppose I owe you a sixpence now, to spend in the village," he said with a fond smile, recalling the time he had convinced a young Lady Mary Crawley not to run away from home.

"No, Carson, _this_ kiss was free. I'm not running away any more. Give the sixpence to Mrs. Hughes – for her shoe. She truly is a lucky woman, and you may tell her I said so. And if she ever treats you poorly, I shall have her sacked immediately!" quipped Lady Mary.

"I can assure you that won't be necessary," Charles told her.

"I'm sure it won't," she agreed. "Now, as much as I'd like to keep you all to myself, I'm guessing that a certain housekeeper is waiting for you to collect her to speak with Mama and Papa. Am I correct?"

"You are, indeed," he confirmed.

"Well, then, I shall release you into her custody – reluctantly. And until I see her myself, please assure Mrs. Hughes of my warmest wishes," offered Lady Mary most sincerely.

"I shall, M'Lady. Thank you very much," said Charles. And with that, he set off to find his betrothed.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N Longest chapter yet, and maybe a little too "storybook," but I couldn't help myself. I think everything else so far _could_ conceivably happen in JF's world, but this chapter probably would not. Still, I like it, so here it is. Who doesn't love a little bit of happy, fluffy Chelsie?**

**I've also re-posted Chapter 17 because I forgot one small detail that I wanted to include. It's minor, so you won't really miss anything if you don't go back and read the new version, but if you fancy a story about a certain butler, a young Lady Mary running away from home, a sixpence, and a kiss, then by all means, check it out!**

**And I would be remiss if I didn't include my standard thank you to all my reviewers, because you really do make me very happy when I read your comments. Please, please, please keep it up!**

Chapter 18

Elsie was in a fairy tale. She had never cared for such stories when she was younger, dismissing them as the fanciful products of an overly romantic view of the world and far too unrealistic, but now she was living in one. She had found her true love and was looking forward to spending the rest of her life with him. It couldn't be more perfect.

Earlier that day, she and Charles had told the Earl and the Countess of their plan to be married, and the younger couple had been genuinely delighted for them. His Lordship had seemed genuinely surprised, but her Ladyship had claimed that she had been aware of their regard for each other for such a long time that she only wondered how it hadn't happened sooner. His Lordship would have given them a cottage, but he had been pleased that they wished to remain in the house. They had agreed upon a room, and her Ladyship had promised that it would be prepared in time for the wedding. After having explained their eagerness to move things along quickly, the butler and housekeeper had also been granted the afternoon off to go into the village to see Mr. Travis.

At luncheon, they had announced their intentions to the staff. Everyone had been thrilled for them. The other servants had offered their congratulations, the women crowding around Elsie and embracing her tearfully, and the men shaking Charles's hand joyously and patting him on the back.

Their meeting with the vicar had also gone well. He had been genuinely happy for them, and he could see no reason that they shouldn't be married in just over two weeks, allowing three Sundays for the banns to be read, beginning the very next day.

While they had been away in the village that afternoon, the family and the staff had conspired to arrange a surprise for the happy couple. Upon their return, the two had been told that Lady Mary had requested an early dinner for the family, which had allowed the servants to eat earlier also. A private dinner was being arranged for the butler and housekeeper in Elsie's sitting room. Anna had whisked Elsie away to her bedroom to get her ready, and Mr. Bates had ushered Charles into his bedroom to make him presentable. The couple had protested mightily upon being informed that Anna had been commissioned to serve as Elsie's lady's maid, and Mr. Bates had been pressed into service as Mr. Carson's valet, but they had not prevailed. In the end, Elsie had insisted on dressing herself, doffing her black housekeeper's attire and donning her favorite Sunday skirt and blouse instead, but she did allow Anna to arrange her hair and apply a bit of color to her face. She was sure that Charles had dressed himself as well, probably allowing Mr. Bates only to brush some imaginary lint from his jacket and perhaps to adjust his already straight tie.

As she now made her way down to her parlor, she did indeed feel like a princess in one of those story books, on her way to the ball to meet her prince. When she arrived, Charles was already waiting for her. He greeted her with a radiant smile and kiss on the cheek.

"You look especially lovely this evening," he told her.

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "You look rather dashing yourself."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you how beautiful you are. I should have told you ages ago," he lamented.

"No apologies tonight, and no regrets," she said, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. "We've loved each other for so long, Charles, and now, finally, we've a date with the vicar. I'd say that's reason to celebrate, not cause for remorse."

"Of course you're right, Love. You usually are," he conceded.

"Though you rarely admit it," she pointed out.

"I'll try to do better," Charles promised as he kissed her hand and led her farther into the room.

It was then that Elsie first noticed the transformation that had been wrought in her sitting room. There were candles and flowers everywhere, a bottle of champagne, and a fire blazing in the hearth. Her small table had been moved towards the center of the room and held place settings for two. A phonograph had also been set up on her desk.

"What's all this?" she asked, eyes wide with wonder.

"It would seem the staff were very busy while we were out this afternoon," he replied.

"I would venture a guess that your Lady Mary may have had something to do with arranging this, too," she surmised.

"Perhaps," said Charles.

Then he went to the table, opened the champagne, poured two glasses, and handed her one.

Lifting his glass in a toast, he said, "To my beautiful Elsie, who has made this surly, old butler the happiest man on earth."

"To _my_ surly, old butler, who has made this dour, old housekeeper feel like a giddy, young schoolgirl," she offered, raising her glass.

They touched glasses, and Charles leaned in to steal a kiss before they began to sip their drinks.

Just then, Mr. Barrow arrived at the door, announcing, "Dinner is served," and directing Alfred and James, who were each carrying a tray of food.

Not entirely comfortable about being served, Elsie and Charles both began to object vociferously. In the face of their protests, Mr. Barrow disappeared, only to return a moment later with an angry Mrs. Patmore.

"Now, listen here! Daisy and Ivy and I have been working all afternoon preparing a special dinner for you, and if it's not served properly, it spoils the effect. So the two of you are going to sit yourselves right down at that table, and let these nice young men take care of you, and like it or not, you're going to enjoy yourselves!" ordered the cook in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

Charles pulled out Elsie's chair for her, and duly chastened, the pair obediently took their seats.

Dinner truly was a special treat, a meal more suited for the upstairs lot than for a housekeeper and butler. Mrs. Patmore and the girls really had gone to great lengths. The atmosphere was pleasant, if a bit formal, with two footmen and an under-butler bringing and clearing away dishes, refilling glasses, and sometimes just standing by at attention.

When they had finished the main meal, Mrs. Patmore herself brought in the dessert, set two plates on the table, and said, "Since you've behaved yourself all day, Mr. Carson, and managed to restrain yourself until now, I've saved you the best piece."

"The treacle tart! I'd nearly forgotten!" cried Charles, causing Elsie to smirk at him.

"Well, you _have_ had some other things on your mind today," Mrs. Patmore acknowledged.

"Mrs. Patmore," Charles began cautiously, "I'm feeling quite full at the moment. Your dinner was superb, and I enjoyed it immensely, but I'm not sure I have room for the tart just now. Would you be terribly put out if Mrs. Hughes and I had our dessert a little later on?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure you'll be having your dessert later on, but I'll leave the tart, as well. All right, then. You two lovebirds enjoy the rest of your evening," said the cook.

"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore. Everything was wonderful," Elsie said sincerely.

"Yes," echoed Charles. "Quite wonderful indeed. You've really outdone yourself."

"Well, it's not every day that the butler proposes to the housekeeper, she accepts, and I find the two of them kissing like young lovers – and in broad daylight, no less! As a matter of fact, to my recollection, this is the first time it's happened. I just thought we ought to mark the occasion," she pointed out sensibly. Then turning to Mr. Barrow, Alfred, and James, she said, "All right, lads. Come on, then. Gather up the rest of these items, and let's leave them to it."

Everyone said good night, and Elsie and Charles were left alone. Charles walked over to the phonograph and started up a record. He returned to Elsie, held his hand out to her, and inquired politely, "Mrs. Hughes, may I have this dance?"

"Certainly, Mr. Carson. I'd be delighted," she answered, barely able to contain her excitement.

In all their years together, Elsie had never danced with Charles. Although they were sometimes compelled to attend local fairs and village dances to supervise the young maids and footmen, neither ever participated in the actual dancing. Of course, they were required to open the Servants' Ball with Lord and Lady Grantham. Occasionally, during the ball, one of the other men of the family, maybe Mr. Branson or - God rest him - Mr. Matthew, would ask Elsie to dance, or it would be "suggested" that Charles ask one of the other ladies, perhaps Mrs. Crawley or one of the young ladies. But they had never danced with each other - until tonight.

She took his hand, and he led her to the middle of the floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he positioned his hand on the small of her back. Her sitting room was rather a small area for a proper dance, but they made do.

Charles was a marvelous dancer. He led her effortlessly around the cramped space as if the two of them had been dancing with each other for years. They moved together perfectly, and it felt natural. As they danced, Charles drew her nearer, and she smiled up at him and rested her head on his chest. Elsie was content in his arms.

Charles leaned down and whispered to her, "I have been in love with you since your third day at Downton."

"My third day?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, your third day. The day you arrived, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. You earned my admiration as soon as I set eyes on you. Your second day was particularly trying, if I remember correctly. One catastrophe followed another, yet you managed them all commendably. I thought you were the most capable housekeeper I would ever have the good fortune to meet, and by the end of the second day, you had garnered my respect. But your _third_ day here … " he recalled dreamily, "well, that was the day I surrendered my heart to you."

"I had just reprimanded a new footman," he went on, "and he had taken it badly. You brought him here into your parlor and comforted him. Your door was open, and I heard the whole exchange. You managed to console him without belittling me. You defended my actions, yet you encouraged him and sent him away greatly relieved. A kind word, a gentle touch, and a caring smile made all the difference for him. After witnessing that, how could I help but love such a thoughtful, compassionate soul? If I hadn't been so afraid of losing you entirely, I would have told you then and there."

"Charles," began Elsie with tears in her eyes, "it may interest you to know that that was the very day you won _my_ heart, as well. I seem to recall that the dressing down you gave that poor footman involved a malfunctioning collar stud. You may have been a bit harsh with him at first, but you were very lenient later on. I saw you take him aside. You helped him fix his collar and taught him to fasten it properly. You even gave the lad a set of your own studs to wear that evening."

"Of course, I had thought you were exceedingly handsome, and I had known how efficiently you ran the house, so I held you in high esteem from the start. But it wasn't until I saw you with that young man that I lost my heart. I knew then that underneath that gruff exterior, there was a kind and loving man," she finished fondly.

The music stopped, but neither made any move to sit down. Instead, Elsie slid her arms around Charles's neck, and he held his arms around her waist. He gazed at her lovingly, and the devotion evident in his look brought fresh tears to her eyes. She stretched up to kiss him, and he let her lips explore his before he reciprocated. When he did, his touch was so reverent that Elsie thought she might cry again. Charles kissed her as if she were some delicate, precious treasure that he feared damaging, and he made her feel loved and cherished.

"Elsie?" asked Charles, resting his cheek against hers and speaking softly into her ear. "What you said earlier, about the effect my kisses have on you … Did you really mean it?"

She pulled her head back to look at him.

"Of course I did! You make me quite dizzy," she assured him. "Why do you ask? Do you not believe me?"

He shifted uncomfortably and cast his eyes down.

"It's just that … well … never having done it before … I only wondered … if I were doing it properly," he said.

"Well," Elsie replied with a chuckle, "never having done it before, myself, I wouldn't know!"

"Never?" he asked, surprised. "Not even … your Mr. Burns?"

"No, Charles," she answered seriously. "Not even Mr. Burns." Then she added playfully, "What kind of girl do you think I am, going around kissing every man who asks me to marry him? I make it a practice to kiss only the man I'm _going_ to marry."

Charles looked relieved and smiled to hear that.

"Oh, Charles. I don't know whether we're doing it 'properly,' but honestly, I don't care. It makes me very, _very_ happy, and if you're happy, too, then nothing else matters," Elsie concluded.

"I _am_ happy," he confirmed. "Happier than I ever thought I could be. A day ago, I feared I had destroyed our friendship, and tonight I am secure in the knowledge that my best friend and true love will soon be my wife." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "Now, didn't you just say something about practicing kissing the man you're going to marry?"

"That's not exactly what I said, Dear," she laughed, "but I won't argue."

After many blissful minutes of "practicing," Charles addressed another issue.

"Elsie, Love," he said, "after all this activity, I find I've developed quite an appetite again. I think we've waited long enough. Would you care to help me finish off the treacle tart?"

As they tucked into the delicious pastry, Elsie had to agree that Charles was right: nothing ever tasted so good as something you'd been looking forward to all day.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N Coming down the homestretch. Only a few more chapters to go. Hope you're all still with me! Thank you - again, as always, very much, and from the bottom of my heart - for reviewing, following, and "favoriting." (Is that a word?) Please keep lending your support and encouragement! I couldn't keep going without it!**

Chapter 19

Charles was on top of the world. He had had a wonderful evening last night with Elsie, and after numerous, prolonged goodnight kisses, he had gone to his room, changed, and collapsed into a contented heap on his bed. Exhausted from lack of sleep the previous night and from the excitement of the day, he had fallen fast asleep. Sweet as his dreams had been, he had now touched, held, kissed the _real_ Elsie, and the night's dreams had been but a small foretaste of what he could expect upon seeing her in the morning.

He had risen early this morning and readied himself, hoping that Elsie, too, might be up and about early. She was. He found her at her desk in her sitting room, looking over some menus.

"Good morning," he greeted her and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"Good morning," she returned, standing and smiling up at him. "How are you today?"

"Very well, thank you," he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her chastely but enthusiastically. "Even better now. And you?"

"I've never been happier, Charles," she told him earnestly, grinning broadly.

"Neither have I, _Elsie_," he responded, emphasizing her name.

He loved to hear her call him by his given name. He supposed the novelty would wear off at some point, but it had been hardly twenty-four hours since the first time he had heard her utter his Christian name in her charming Scottish tones, and he still went weak at the knees when she addressed him in so personal a manner. No one had called him Charles since he had been a young footman, and now he would allow only one person in the world this privilege.

Similarly, he loved calling her Elsie. After having addressed her for twenty years as Mrs. Hughes, calling her Elsie didn't come naturally yet; he still had to think about it. The name felt strange, yet thrilling, coming out of his mouth. It was like a secret, something private and precious between just the two of them. Even Mrs. Patmore still called her Mrs. Hughes.

"You know, I think that I shall allow you to call me Elsie only until we are married," she informed him.

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "And why is that?"

"Because then I shall be _Mrs. Carson_, and I should like to be reminded of that fact at every opportunity," she explained reasonably.

"So I am to call my own wife Mrs. Carson? All the time? Really, Love, I've no intention of letting you forget that you are mine. But should your memory fail you, I'm sure I shall be able to find better ways to remind you," he said, kissing her hand and eyeing her mischievously.

"Oh, go on, then!" she chuckled. "Mrs. Patmore was right. You _are_ a cheeky devil! Now, how may I help you Mr. Carson? Was there something you wanted, or have you come just to distract me?"

"Actually, I have come to ask my intended if she will allow me to escort her to services this morning," he replied.

"Your intended would like that very much," she said.

"Wonderful!" Charles exclaimed happily. "I shall come to collect you when it's time to leave."

"I look forward to it," she returned, just as cheerfully.

"Well, then, I'll let you get back to your work," he said. "Although, I do believe you were distracted even before I arrived."

Elsie looked at him, puzzled.

"Why do you say that? I was reviewing the menus for the coming week," she told him.

He picked up the papers from her desk and handed them to her.

"These are _last_ week's menus, Love," he advised her before kissing her cheek, which had tinted a lovely shade of pink, and departing.

A short while later, Charles found himself walking to church with his beloved on his arm. Every Sunday since her arrival at Downton, he had walked this same path with her, and every Sunday he had longed to feel her next to him, squeezing his arm lovingly, and to place his hand on top of hers in the crook of his elbow. Today, not only was he strolling along with his Elsie on his arm, but they were headed to church to hear Mr. Travis read the banns for their marriage.

They walked slowly enough to fall behind the other servants in the group and afford themselves a bit of privacy. They chatted about this and that, nothing of any consequence, and soon they arrived at the church. Charles placed his hand on the small of Elsie's back as he guided her up the steps and through the door. He even dared to lace pinkies with her as they sat in the pew during the service. When their names were read, he squeezed her hand and beamed joyfully at her, perceiving his own elation mirrored in her expression.

Charles could hardly believe the joy he felt at finally being able to express his love for Elsie openly. The small touches, the meaningful smiles, the knowing looks … Surely, the younger lot would find it ridiculous to get so excited over something so seemingly mild, but what did they know? He had loved her longer than some of them had been alive.

After the service, Charles and Elsie received the congratulations and best wishes of many of the villagers. Everyone seemed so genuinely pleased for them, and Charles's heart swelled with pride.

On the way back to the house, they found themselves walking alongside the other couple in the group, Anna and Mr. Bates.

"This is so perfect!" Anna declared excitedly. "We're all so happy for you both!"

"Thank you, Anna," said Elsie. "We appreciate everyone's kind wishes."

The two women drifted apart from the men, engaging in conversation that Charles could only assume involved womanly matters. That left Charles and Mr. Bates to talk about other concerns.

"Mr. Carson, if I may, I'd like to share with you something I've learned about marriage," said Mr. Bates.

"By all means, please, Mr. Bates," said Charles.

"Well, in my experience," continued Mr. Bates, "I've found that two words can go a long way to ensuring a happy marriage."

"Only two? That sounds rather too easy. What are these magic words?" asked Charles.

"'Yes, Dear,'" answered Mr. Bates.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates. I shall remember that," laughed Charles.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N Second update today! If you haven't read Chapter 19, go back and do that first. Thank you for all the reviews in the short time between the last post and this one. Please keep sharing your thoughts! Almost done now - one or two more chapters after this.**

Chapter 20

Elsie was taken by surprise, to say the least. Lady Mary Crawley was perhaps the last person she expected to be knocking at her door that afternoon.

"Mrs. Hughes," she asked, "do you have a moment?"

"Of course, M'Lady. Please come in," replied Elsie, offering her a chair. "How may I help you?"

"I came to tell you how very glad I am for you and Carson," the young woman told her.

"Why, thank you. That is kind of you to say," the housekeeper responded.

"He loves you very much, and you've made him so happy," said Lady Mary, in so heartfelt a tone that Elsie couldn't help but be touched.

"It so happens that I return his feelings, and I'm quite happy, as well," managed Elsie, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm rather fond of him, myself, as I'm sure you know," continued Lady Mary. "It brings me joy to see him so obviously pleased."

"He cares for you, too, M'Lady – a great deal," Elsie assured her.

"He always has done, even though, most of the time, I haven't been deserving of his devotion," Lady Mary said pensively.

"Perhaps he's seen something that others haven't – that _you_ haven't," the older woman offered.

"He's seen the hope – the possibility – that a spoiled young girl can become a decent person?" suggested Lady Mary.

"I'd say it's more than a hope or a possibility, M'Lady," Elsie encouraged her. "It's highly likely, I think."

"I _am_ trying. Losing one's husband does have a way of revealing what's truly important," continued Lady Mary plaintively, "especially when one has been too selfish to recognize it any sooner. Mrs. Hughes, I would never presume to offer you advice about marriage. I don't feel qualified to give anyone advice about anything. However, I will say that I think you'll be happier if you make the most of the time you're given. You can't know whether you'll be granted a year or ten or twenty or thirty, but if you really want to, you can find a lifetime's worth of love in a year."

Until that moment, Elsie would never have dreamed that Lady Mary Crawley could say anything that would make her eyes become moist, but it seemed the young lady possessed an extraordinary capacity to surprise her.

"Well said, M'Lady. I daresay you're right," Elsie agreed. "You're remarkably wise for one so young."

"Wisdom is not a trait anyone's ever attributed to me before," snuffled Lady Mary.

"Perhaps it's a quality you've acquired only recently," posited Elsie.

"It's no wonder Carson loves you," Lady Mary marveled. "You don't even like me, and yet you find it in your heart to be kind."

"On the contrary, M'Lady," countered Elsie, "I'm growing fonder of you every time you speak."

They both smiled affectionately.

"Carson's very lucky to have you, Mrs. Hughes," affirmed Lady Mary.

"So I keep telling him," Elsie jested.

"He's a dear man. You will take care of him?" Lady Mary implored seriously.

"You may have me sacked if I don't."

"Don't think I won't!"

"I know you will!"

Both women laughed heartily. Lady Mary rose to leave, and Elsie stood as well.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes, for your time and your kind words."

"Thank _you_, M'Lady, for your good wishes."

Elsie walked Lady Mary to the door and bade her good day. In the corridor, she noticed Charles, who shot her a questioning look. She just smiled back at him.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N I'm posting two chapters at once, so please find the next chapter immediately following this one. I really hope everyone is still liking my story. Reviews seem to be dropping off somewhat; I'm hoping that doesn't mean people have given up on me. We're nearly at the end now, please stay with me for a few more chapters! Thank you for your loyalty!**

Chapter 21

Charles was in a foul mood. He really had no right to be cross, but he was. In less than twenty-four hours, Elsie would be his bride, and that thought should have made him deliriously happy.

The two weeks since his proposal and her acceptance had been spent in eager anticipation and excitement. They had spent their days doing their usual work, but in the less busy moments, Elsie had, on occasion, found her way to Charles's pantry to claim a mid-day kiss. And Charles had, once or twice, sought her out during the afternoons while she was checking over the upstairs rooms, and finding her completely alone, had swept her into his arms and reminded her how much he loved her. They had spent their evenings together, as usual, and had talked joyously of their marriage and their future together while they drank their wine or tea. They had sat closer together, had held hands, and had embraced each other freely. The goodnight kisses, while still proper and decent, had been glorious. After having spent two decades employing every ounce of restraint they could muster, they were still overjoyed at just being able to touch each other at all.

The reason for his ill spirits, however, was his concern for the well-being of Downton over the next few days while he and Elsie would be away. Their new room in the house was ready, but they wanted to enjoy their privacy in the beginning, and so they had decided to spend their wedding night and the next night at the Grantham Arms. Having both the butler and housekeeper gone from the house for two days required some planning and preparation.

In Charles's absence, Mr. Barrow would be acting as butler. Charles was not at all comfortable with leaving the under-butler in charge and asked Mr. Bates to keep a close eye on things. Elsie, on the other hand, felt perfectly at ease leaving her keys and her duties in Anna's capable and trustworthy hands. Having spent the afternoon reviewing the arrangements with Anna, Elsie felt confident that everything was in order. Charles, however, had no such confidence in Mr. Barrow's abilities or his intentions. Nevertheless, he had little choice in the matter.

Now, to worsen his already sour disposition, he had just been informed that he was to be bundled off after dinner by the downstairs men to the tavern at the Grantham Arms for some celebratory libations. He only agreed to go because Elsie had said he should, and because Mr. Bates seemed to be coordinating the effort. Mr. Bates was nothing, if not sensible, and he knew that the valet never even touched alcohol. Charles assured himself that between the two of them, they would certainly be able to maintain order and decorum among the younger men. But he would have preferred to spend a quiet evening with Elsie.

And so it was that a reluctant Charles found himself sitting at a table at the Grantham Arms, nursing his drink and talking with Mr. Bates, while the younger men wandered around, talking with acquaintances or flirting with the barmaids.

"Mr. Carson, I can't tell you how pleased we all are for you and Mrs. Hughes. We have great respect for you both, and I can't think of two people better suited to each other," said the Earl's valet sincerely. "Except perhaps for Anna and myself, of course," he added with an affectionate smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Bates, truly," replied Charles. "You and Anna do seem very content together, and I hope that Mrs. Hughes and I shall be as happy."

"I'm sure you shall be," Mr. Bates affirmed with cheerful conviction. "You and Mrs. Hughes have cared for each other with such devotion for so many years that it seems only fitting and natural for you to now confirm with vows the attachment that has always been in your hearts."

Charles was so genuinely moved by Mr. Bates's words that he was unsure at first how to respond, marveling at the man's profound assessment of the situation, which mirrored his own feelings. He supposed this insight was due to the fact that Mr. Bates and his beloved Anna had also spent a good number of years as loyal friends and trusted colleagues before they were married.

Charles was spared the need to answer when some raised voices at the bar attracted their attention. It seemed that James and Alfred were involved in some sort of dispute with a local man. It appeared to be getting rather heated, and Charles was about to get up to intervene when Mr. Bates stayed him with a hand on his arm and pointed to Mr. Barrow, who was walking determinedly toward the scene. Charles and Mr. Bates watched, dumbstruck, as Mr. Barrow deftly defused the tensions within a few moments. Mr. Bates shook his head and smiled, remarking, "Will wonders never cease?!"

_Perhaps the Abbey won't fall apart without me, after all!_ thought Charles, uncertain whether to feel relief or disappointment at that idea.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N I've just posted two chapters simultaneously. This is the second; if you haven't read the first chapter, go back and do that first. Please keep reading and reviewing. If you've stuck with me this far, just give me one or two more chapters - please! Next chapter - the big day! Thank you for all your kindness!**

Chapter 22

Elsie was in fine spirits. While the men were out at the tavern, she and the other downstairs women were in the servants' hall, enjoying their own festivities. Ivy and Daisy, under Mrs. Patmore's watchful scrutiny, had prepared a scrumptious tray of sweets. Somehow, Mrs. Patmore had also acquired several bottles of very nice champagne. Elsie presumed that Lady Mary must have been responsible for the champagne, but the cook would neither confirm nor deny that supposition.

"I still can't believe Mr. Carson finally proposed to you, Mrs. Hughes," said Anna, squeezing Elsie's hand. "I'm so happy for you both."

"It's so romantic!" cooed Daisy dreamily.

"Like a fairy tale!" Ivy agreed.

"Oh, you silly girls! One sip of champagne, and you go all starry-eyed. It goes straight to your heads!" exclaimed Mrs. Patmore. "Fairy tale, indeed! After two days, they're coming right back here to pick up where they left off, with the linen rotas and the dinner menus and the wine deliveries. Where's the romance in that?"

"Yes, but _Mrs. Hughes_ won't be returning. _Mrs. Carson_ will be arriving. And _that_ will make all the difference!" insisted Anna, knowingly.

"Calling you Mrs. Carson will take some getting used to, Mrs. Hughes," said Mrs. Patmore, shaking her head.

"_Being_ Mrs. Carson will take some getting used to, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie laughed happily.

Just as the women's festivities were breaking up, the men returned to the house. Alfred, James, and Mr. Barrow seemed especially jolly but had retained control of themselves. Mr. Carson and Mr. Bates, of course, appeared to have suffered no ill effects from the night's revelry. Mrs. Patmore shooed everyone off to bed with the help of Anna and Mr. Bates, who would be spending the night at the house instead of their cottage. That left Elsie and Charles alone one last time before their wedding, and they made their way to Elsie's sitting room.

"How was your evening?" asked Elsie once they were standing in her parlor.

"I would rather have spent it with you," Charles pouted, drawing her into his embrace, "but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. Did you have a nice time with Mrs. Patmore and the girls?"

"I did, thank you. It was very nice," she told him.

"You know, I don't know what I shall do with myself tomorrow night ... " he pondered seriously.

"Well, I have some suggestions!" she snorted, grinning at him.

"Oh, dear. That's not what I meant," Charles continued, his face flushing feverishly. "I only meant that I have become quite accustomed to our evening routine - our talk and glass of wine, here or in my pantry. We have spent nearly every night for the past several months – in fact, for the past twenty years – in the same way. Tomorrow night will surely be different."

"It certainly will," Elsie affirmed. "But what are we to do? There's nothing for it. We'll just have to alter our routine a bit, once we're married."

"Oh, I do like the sound of _that_!" he said, kissing her enthusiastically.

When Elsie caught her breath again, she said, "Charles, as much as I enjoy your attentions, we should probably get some sleep now. Tomorrow is rather an important day, and I am anxious for it to arrive."

"All right, then," he acceded.

They closed up her sitting room and walked to the stairs. When they arrived at the place where they would part to go their separate rooms, Charles looked at Elsie and said earnestly, "This is the last time I shall be able to call you Mrs. Hughes. It makes me sad."

"Well, I, for one, shall be very happy to have you call me Mrs. Carson tomorrow," she argued.

"And so shall I, but Mrs. Hughes is very dear to me. It was she who stole my heart," he said sentimentally.

"Give Mrs. Carson a chance. I'll wager you'll become quite fond of her, once you meet her," Elsie teased.

"I'm sure I shall," he agreed.

Then, standing in the very spot where he had kissed her cheek for the first time, he gathered her to him, rested his forehead against hers, and spoke quietly with his lips touching hers, "Mrs. Hughes, may I kiss you goodnight?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson, you may," she whispered back.

First, he slowly and deliberately outlined each feature of her face with his fingers. She traced the shell of his ear. Then he nuzzled his nose softly up and down against hers. She ran her fingers through the hair at his temples. Next, he brushed his lips gently back and forth over hers, tickling them. She played with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Finally, he closed his lips delicately over hers, and she responded in kind. A moment later, they stood, lost in a world unto themselves, looking fondly at each other.

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes," said Charles wistfully. "I shall miss you terribly."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N Here's Chapter 23, Charles just before the wedding. I hope to post the next chapter, Elsie just before the wedding, tonight.**

**Thank you again for all the reviews. You've been remarkable in your support. Please continue and help me get through to the end!**

Chapter 23

Charles was a bundle of nerves. Mr. Bates was doing his best to calm him, but his efforts were largely unsuccessful. Mr. Bates had spent the night in his old room at the Abbey, and having already dressed the Earl, was now with Charles in his room, helping him prepare for the wedding.

"Please, Mr. Carson!" implored the valet, chuckling. "Do stop pacing about the room. You'll wear a track in the floor!"

"Well, what else am I to do? I'm completely ready, and it's still much too early to leave for church!" cried Charles, exasperated. "Perhaps I should find Mr. Barrow and go over his instructions again."

"No, you most certainly should not!" insisted Mr. Bates, firmly yet kindly. "Mr. Carson, if you can't calm yourself a bit, I shall be forced to fetch Mrs. Patmore and ask her to have a word with you."

Charles sat down on his bed immediately, the threat of being by chastised the cook just before his wedding striking fear in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates," Charles apologized. "I shall try to relax myself somewhat; only, it's difficult. I've never done this before."

"Well, I _have_ done. Twice, as a matter of fact, though I try to my best forget the first time and think only of the second. There's no need to worry, Mr. Carson. You are simply going to church to promise yourself to the person you hold most dear in the world. But have you not already been hers for all these years?" asked Mr. Bates.

"Yes, I suppose I have been," answered Charles.

"And even if you were not to be married today, would you not still belong to her in all the years to come?" Mr. Bates continued.

"Yes, I certainly would," replied the butler.

"Then why should you be even the least bit nervous about promising your heart to someone who already holds it?" the younger man finished logically.

"You're right, of course, Mr. Bates, but it's not _that _that's troubling me," Charles admitted. "It's all the rest of it - getting through the ceremony, and the luncheon, and ... well, tonight ... " - here Charles averted his eyes and cleared his throat - "and tomorrow, and the next day. I'm afraid I know nothing about being married. Before I became a butler, I had training, preparation. I had experience as a footman and valet. But there's no training for marriage, no prior experience. I won't even know how to behave."

"You'll learn, Mr. Carson. You and Mrs. Hughes will learn together. You can't possibly know everything beforehand, and figuring it out together is all part of the process," Mr. Bates pointed out.

Charles sighed, "I'm sure that's true. Thank you, Mr. Bates. I do feel more at ease now."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Mr. Bates answered it to find Mr. Barrow, apparently wanting a word with the butler.

"May I come in, Mr. Carson?" asked Mr. Barrow.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Barrow," Charles answered, rising from the bed, and Mr. Bates admitted the under-butler.

"I just wanted to assure you that I have everything well in hand, and that I intend to do my best while you're gone. I certainly don't have your wisdom or experience, but I do promise not to let the house burn down in your absence. Mr. Bates will be sure to keep me in check. I hope you can enjoy your time with Mrs. Hughes without worrying too much about the house," said Mr. Barrow with a candor that both surprised and pleased Charles, and Charles found his words unexpectedly reassuring.

"Thank you for that, Mr. Barrow. It's kind of you to say," Charles responded with equal frankness. "I'm sure you'll get along admirably. I have every confidence that I shall indeed find the house still standing upon my return."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I'll be on my way. I'll see you both at church," said Mr. Barrow, nodding and excusing himself.

As the under-butler was leaving, another visitor appeared at the door, one who caused Charles's face to light up with joy.

"M'Lady!" cried Charles, walking toward her.

"Good morning, Carson, Bates. I hope I'm not intruding," Lady Mary greeted them.

"No, not at all! It's so good of you to come!" exclaimed Charles, beaming.

"If you'll excuse me, M'Lady, Mr. Carson, I'll just go and make sure that Anna's got Mrs. Hughes sequestered in her room. We'll be leaving soon, and we wouldn't want you to run into her on your way out," said Mr. Bates, grinning.

With that, the valet withdrew, leaving Charles alone with Lady Mary.

"Now," said Lady Mary, "let's have a proper look at you."

Charles drew himself up to his full height, stuck out his chin, and asked, "Will I do, M'Lady?"

"Very nicely, Carson," she answered as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Recalling a similar exchange that the two had had on the day of her wedding, and realizing that the same recollection might upset her, he apologized, "Oh, M'Lady, I'm sorry! I'm ever so pleased that you should want to come to the wedding, but if it's too painful for you ... "

"Nonsense, Carson. I wouldn't miss it," she replied, smiling. "Now, then," she went on, "it seems there's only one more thing you need."

"And what would that be, M'Lady?" he asked.

"Only this," she answered, gracing him with another kiss on the cheek. "All my love."

Charles couldn't speak. All his years of training and experience as butler were woefully inadequate to prepare him to react dispassionately to _this_. When finally he regained some of his faculties, he pulled a sixpence from his pocket and offered it to her.

"If you intend to keep honoring me with your affections, might I ask that you have a word with His Lordship about compensating me more adequately?" he joked, trying to bring a little levity. "At this rate, I shall be penniless in very short order. Happy, but penniless!"

Lady Mary laughed, taking the coin from him. "I've told you: there's no charge for the kisses. But I shall accept this sixpence, only on condition that I may give it away directly. I intend to pay a visit to your lovely bride. Perhaps she'd like to put it in her shoe."

"Then I shall be very grateful if you'll pass it on to her, along with my love," said Charles.

"I certainly shall," she promised, squeezing his hand and beginning to walk away. When she reached the door, however, she paused with her hand on the knob and turned back to say, "You do look exceptionally handsome today, Carson. Mrs. Hughes will be the envy of every woman in church. I, for one, am already jealous."

Lady Mary smiled warmly at him, and Charles blushed profusely, but found he no longer felt anxious.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N Here's Chapter 24, Elsie before the wedding. The next chapter will be the wedding. I hope I can do it justice. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I honestly don't think I could have made it this far without your encouragement. The reviews really mean a lot. I appreciate your taking the time and making the effort.**

Chapter 24

Elsie was the picture of serenity. Anna was calm and collected, if a bit excited. Mrs. Patmore, however, was not nearly so composed. The two women were with Elsie in her room getting her ready. Anna, like Mr. Bates, had spent the night in her old room at the house, had gotten Lady Mary dressed, and was now putting the final touches on Elsie's hair. Mrs. Patmore had left Daisy and Ivy in the kitchen with a list of instructions to prepare the wedding luncheon and was now bouncing around Elsie's room opening and closing the window, packing, unpacking, and repacking Elsie's overnight bag, fussing over her dress, and generally causing a commotion.

"Have you got everything packed for later, Mrs. Hughes?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Patmore. I'm all packed," answered Elsie, pleasantly.

"And you're sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"No, I haven't forgotten anything. I'm sure."

"And you've got your handbag?"

"Yes, I've got it."

"And you feel all right?"

"Yes, thank you. Never better."

"Have you eaten enough this morning? How about another slice of toast?" ... "Some tea? Why don't I get you a nice cup of tea?" … "Are you too warm? We could open your window a crack ... " … "Or are you cold? Would you like your shawl? No, never mind. We can't put that on you now … "

Mrs. Patmore prattled on without stopping to take a breath. After a while, she didn't even wait for Elsie's reply before firing the next question at her. Anna just listened, smirking knowingly at Elsie. Elsie had initially answered all the cook's questions patiently and just let her chatter away, but after Mrs. Patmore offered her tea for the third time, the housekeeper finally chuckled, "Mrs. Patmore, do stop fussing. _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be anxious! Why are _you_ doing all the worrying?"

"I'm not _worrying_!" insisted Mrs. Patmore defensively. "I'm just making sure everything is right."

"Everything is _perfectly_ right, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie assured her.

"Exactly," said Anna, grinning warmly at Elsie. "Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson are going to be married today. I can't think of anything _more_ right."

"All right, all right! I'll settle myself," conceded Mrs. Patmore, taking a deep breath. "Now, you've got something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. Where's the sixpence?"

"The sixpence?" asked Elsie.

"Yes, the sixpence! For your shoe! Don't tell me … Oh, my - " cried Mrs. Patmore, her voice rising in pitch and volume, panic setting in.

But Elsie cut her off, saying, "Mrs. Patmore, will you please leave the hysteria to me?"

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. Anna answered it and ushered in Lady Mary.

"M'Lady," Elsie greeted her. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Anna excused herself, saying, "I'll just go and make sure the men have left for church before we take you downstairs, Mrs. Hughes."

"And I'll go and find you a sixpence," said Mrs. Patmore.

"There's no need," said Lady Mary, holding up a coin.

"Well, that's a blessed relief!" cried Mrs. Patmore. "Then I'll just go and make sure the girls haven't started a fire in the kitchen. I think I smell smoke!" And with that, the cook swept out of Elsie's room.

"You came to bring me a sixpence?" Elsie asked Lady Mary.

"Yes, I did. It's from Carson, actually. I visited him earlier, and he said I should give it to you," Lady Mary explained.

"Well, it's very good of you to bring it. Thank you," said Elsie, taking the offered coin.

"He also wanted me to tell you he sends his love," Lady Mary informed her.

Elsie smiled and looked at the floor, but said nothing.

"You look very beautiful, by the way," Lady Mary complimented her. "Radiant, in fact. The picture of happiness. I daresay Carson will find himself weak at the knees when he sees you."

"Oh, my! He must have given you more than a sixpence to say _that_!" Elsie quipped, and both women chuckled.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer, Mrs. Hughes. I just wanted to assure you of my warmest regards. I couldn't be happier for you both. Truly," said Lady Mary, and she took Elsie's hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you, M'Lady," responded Elsie, returning the gentle pressure.

"I'll see you at church," Lady Mary said on her way out.

Elsie stooped to put the sixpence in her shoe. She wasn't sure that a silver coin could bring her anything she didn't already have, but it would satisfy Mrs. Patmore. And knowing that it came from Charles brought her comfort. She couldn't see him this morning, of course, before the wedding, but this helped her feel close to him.

When Elsie stood back up, she looked around her room – the room that had been hers for twenty years. Her gaze fell on the bed in which she would never sleep again. How many nights had she slept there, dreaming of Charles? How many nights had she lain awake, longing for him? But not tonight. Tonight –

"All right, then, Lassie!" called Mrs. Patmore, pulling Elsie away from her thoughts. "The men are gone. It's safe for you to come down, now. Let's get you off to church!"

Elsie turned, slightly startled by the cook's reappearance.

"Very well," agreed Elsie. "But first, I have something for you." She walked over to her nightstand, removed a single key from the top drawer, held it out to her dear friend, and said, "I've given Anna all the keys except this one. It opens the store cupboard."

Mrs. Patmore's eye filled with tears.

"Now, don't get all weepy, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie said. "It's not a gift; it's a bribe. It's meant to keep you quiet, and I'll only let you have it on condition that you promise to stop asking me about kissing Mr. Carson!"

The two friends embraced, laughing heartily, as tears streamed down both their faces. Anna arrived to collect them, and soon the women were off to church.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N I had been trying to include both the wedding day and the wedding night in a single chapter, but it became too long and too unwieldy. So I broke it in two. Here's Chapter 25, The Wedding. Chapter 26, The Wedding Night is nearly done, and I'll post it soon.**

**A great, big thank you to all of you who have been with me from the start and to those of you who have joined the rest of us along the way. Your devotion has been invaluable! Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. It's gratifying to still keep getting new reviewers, favorites, and followers this far into a story.**

Chapter 25

Charles stood at the front of the church, shuffling his feet, wringing his hands, and waiting impatiently. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time; it was exactly one minute later than last time he had looked.

"Mr. Carson, checking your watch once a minute will not make the hands move any faster," Mr. Bates pointed out with an amused grin.

Charles grudgingly put his watch back in his waistcoat pocket. There were still ten minutes left before the wedding would start, and they would be the longest ten minutes of his life!

Elsie stood outside the church, just a few minutes before she was to walk down the aisle. Everyone else was in place inside, except Mrs. Patmore, who was still primping and preening the bride, for lack of anything better to do before the ceremony started. Finally, it was time. Elsie grasped Mrs. Patmore by her elbows and regarded her affectionately.

"Oh, you ridiculous, troublesome, darling, old hen, you!" exclaimed Elsie, shaking her head.

"And you! You impossible, stubborn, loveable, old hinny!" replied Mrs. Patmore.

After one last embrace and many more tears, Mrs. Patmore went inside to take her place, and Mr. Bates arrived to escort Elsie down the aisle. She had asked him to give her away. She entered the back of the church on his arm, and the music began.

He leaned down, smiling, and asked, "Are you ready, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Well, I'm not getting any younger standing here, so let's get on with it!" she answered, returning his smile.

They began the slow walk down the aisle, and Elsie fixed her gaze on her bridegroom. He cut a striking figure, tall broad, and imposing. His hair was as perfectly coiffed as ever, and his handsome face wore a smile as broad as her own. He had never looked finer, and she had never felt prouder.

When Charles caught his first glimpse of his bride, he thought his heart might fail him. She looked so beautiful that tears sprang to his eyes at the mere sight of her. With her lovely face, dark hair, and shapely frame, she was perfect. Better still, she was _his_.

Finally, Elsie arrived at the front of the church on Mr. Bates's arm. He squeezed both of Elsie's hands, shook Charles's hand, and retreated to his spot. Charles and Elsie stood simply beaming at each other for a few seconds before they joined hands and turned to the vicar.

"Dearly Beloved," began Mr. Travis ...

No one (with the possible exception of his bride) could have imagined that the self-possessed, imperturbable Charles Carson, butler of Downton Abbey, would have difficulty speaking his vows. His voice, normally so powerful and resonant, was quiet and unsteady, fraught with an emotion completely uncharacteristic of him. It came as no great surprise, however, that the calm, steady Elsie Hughes, Downton's beloved housekeeper, voiced her vows in strong, clear tones, showing her emotion only by the tears streaming relentlessly down her cheeks. But it was Beryl Patmore, the Abbey's endearing cook, who made everyone smile with her barely stifled sobs and periodic uncontrollable wailing. Her unreserved outbursts of joy had the enchanting effect of magnifying everyone else's delight, as well.

When the ceremony was over, the couple walked down the aisle happier than anyone had ever seen them. As soon as they stepped outside, the maids and footmen pelted them energetically with rice. They received the warm congratulations of the family, Lady Mary, in particular, and heartfelt sentiments of good will from the staff. A few photographs were taken, and soon Mr. and Mrs. Carson were on their way back to the house for their wedding luncheon.

The luncheon in the servants' hall was a magnificent affair. Mrs. Patmore and the girls had been preparing for days, and the fruits of their labor were most impressive. The food was exquisite, the champagne was delightful, and the atmosphere was merry. All the while, the happy couple sat in their usual seats, holding hands and staring blissfully into each other's eyes.

After the luncheon, Charles and Elsie went to their respective rooms to change their clothes and get their things. When they came back downstairs, everyone wished them well once more. Anna, Mr. Bates, and Mr. Barrow assured them one last time that the house would be left in good hands. Mrs. Patmore presented them with a hamper of food to take with them. And with that, the newlyweds found themselves in the back of His Lordship's car, on their way the Grantham Arms.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N And so ends my first foray into fanfiction. (Sort of. I actually posted "Solace" first, but I really had started working on this first.). Ladies (and gentlemen? Any of you out there? Very few or none, I suspect), I give you Chapter 26, the Carsons' wedding night. I only hope I've done it justice. I will be very happy if I've delivered everything you've been hoping for.**

**A great, big thank you, many virtual hugs and kisses, and lots of love to my loyal readers. A special thank you to everyone who has favorited and followed me or my story, and a _very, very _special thank you to everyone who has left me a review. I've thanked most of you with PM's, but if you've review as a guest, I can't do that. But please be assured, _guests_, that your reviews are just as welcome and appreciated. You can't possibly know how much the reviews mean until you've posted something yourself. A major part of the satisfaction in this, for me, at least, is knowing that there are people out there reading and enjoying my work. And if you're not enjoying it, I want to know that, too, so I can make it better, in case I do this again.**

**I'll insert one more shameless plea for reviews. Please let me know if this final chapter left you satisfied, disappointed, happy, sad, or anything else. I would also be interested to know your overall impressions of the story. Please share your thoughts. I'm also happy to receive PM's at any time about anything. Love to all!**

Chapter 26

When the Carsons arrived at the Grantham Arms and requested their room, they were informed that the Earl and Countess had arranged for them to be given the best suite, the one meant for special guests of the family, who, for one reason or another, did not stay at the Abbey. Charles, who had previously reserved only a standard room, resisted mightily, but to no avail. Obviously, His Lordship held more sway with the innkeeper than His Lordship's lowly butler did.

Presently, the couple found themselves looking around a beautifully appointed suite. One corner contained a small dining table and two hard-backed chairs; the table held a vase of flowers, two unlit candles, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. A sitting area featured two armchairs, a low table, and a fireplace with a cozy blaze already roaring. The sleeping area was equipped with an armoire, a small dresser, two nightstands, and of course, a bed. They could also see, through an open door, the suite's private bathroom.

Charles was not at all pleased. He thought this too luxurious, too extravagant, and was most uncomfortable with the situation. Elsie herself was not entirely at ease, though her discomfort was not as extreme as her husband's. The two servants were certainly used to seeing fine rooms. Most of the rooms at Downton were more lavish, by far. But those rooms were not for their use. At the end of each day, they returned to their own unassuming quarters: her modest parlor and his humble pantry, and their spartan bedrooms in the attic. Never had such grand accommodations been intended for their enjoyment. Yet, His Lordship had insisted, and they had little choice in the matter.

Charles looked down at his feet and cleared his throat.

"Yes. Well," he began. "Here we are."

"Yes," replied Elsie. "Here we are."

"Erm ... Let me take your coat," he offered after hesitating a moment.

As he stood behind his wife and helped her out of her coat, inhaling her intoxicating aroma, he was seized with a sudden desire to slide his arms around her middle and start kissing her neck passionately. Would that be appropriate? He had no idea how a man should behave around his wife. Here he was, alone with her - _his_ _wife!_ - and he hadn't the foggiest idea what he should do! He had a _very good_ idea what he would _like_ to do - eventually, anyway - but he couldn't see how to get to that point in a gracious and gentlemanly manner. After all, he had never done anything like this before. So he hung up her coat, and then his own, in the armoire, but found himself at a complete loss as to what to say or do next.

"Perhaps we should unpack now," suggested Elsie, sensing his difficulty and wanting to set him at ease.

"Oh. Yes, that's a very good idea," he assented awkwardly.

Charles carried their bags to the dresser. When Elsie opened hers and began unpacking, Charles's face and ears flared in color and temperature, and he began sweating profusely because - oh, mercy! - there were women's underthings in there! Of course, there _would_ be; the thought shouldn't have shocked him, but the sight of them certainly had. Furthermore, he realized that he had his own underthings in his bag, and he was disinclined to bring them out at the moment.

"Er, perhaps I'll leave mine for later. I'll just let you finish here while I, erm, … tend to the fire," he said, finding a suitable excuse and moving toward the hearth.

Elsie was rather anxious herself. After all these years, she was completely alone with Charles … and he was her _husband_ now … and he was so handsome … and there was a bed …

She finished unpacking and found that now she was also uncertain how to proceed. To calm her nerves, and his as well, Elsie placed the hamper of food on the table, looked inside, and took out some fruit, cheese, bread, and pastries.

"We shall have to remember to thank Mrs. Patmore. This is quite a feast. Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

"Yes. That would be nice. Thank you," he said, relieved to have something to occupy them.

Charles found some matches and a corkscrew, lit the candles, opened the wine, and poured two glasses. They sat down at the table. Now they were in familiar territory, and both felt more comfortable. How many nights had they sat companionably, chatting, drinking wine, and nibbling on whatever special treat Mrs. Patmore had saved for the two of them? But after a time, the wine was gone, and they had eaten their fill.

Charles went to stoke the fire and add some wood, and when he was done, he remained staring into the flames. Elsie moved to stand beside him. She studied her husband, and the longer she looked, the more attractive he became. She wanted to take his hand and lead him over to the bed. But could she do that? Was it ladylike? Would she frighten Charles? She could see how apprehensive he was. She herself was certainly uneasy, but he looked downright terrified. His jaw was set, his hands were clenched, and his shoulders were stiff. She wouldn't hurry him. She knew that he would have to set the pace tonight, just as he had during their courtship.

For lack of a better idea, Elsie proposed what she thought was a reasonable plan: "It's getting late. Perhaps we should change into our nightclothes. I'll just go put my nightdress on in the bathroom, and you can put your pajamas on here, if you'd like."

She didn't wait for Charles to answer, but went to the dresser, gathered her things, and disappeared into the bathroom. She decided that she was now very grateful for the larger suite with the private bathroom. Changing in a separate room would allow her the chance to compose herself and get ready. It would also provide Charles the space he needed to calm down and collect himself.

Elsie changed into the new nightdress she had bought especially for tonight. It was sensible and modest, yet tasteful and attractive. She hoped her husband would like it. She unpinned and brushed her hair. When she thought she was ready, she looked in the mirror to find Elsie Carson smiling back at her.

While Elsie was in the bathroom, Charles unpacked his things and changed into his pajamas. He had never been more nervous in his life. He had waited a score of years for this moment, and now that it was finally upon him …

Charles was just hanging his suit, having already changed into his pajamas, when his wife came back into the room. He was awestruck at the sight of her. Her beauty never failed to move him, but this was different.

Her hair was down. He had never, during the entire time he had known her, seen her with her hair down. The most he had seen was a stray lock which had worked its way free at the end of a long day. He had had no idea, until this very instant, that her hair was so long and full - so beautiful. He yearned to touch it, to run his fingers through it; it looked so soft. And she was wearing an elegant nightdress which perfectly accentuated her comely figure. He had seen her in her nightclothes before, during some of the nocturnal emergencies that had arisen over the years at Downton, but she had always donned a dressing gown and managed somehow to have had pinned up her hair. The vision he saw before him now was not the housekeeper of Downton Abbey but an angel come down from Heaven.

Charles stood frozen in place, eyes wide, jaw slack, knees weak, face flushed, heart racing, and lungs failing. All he could manage was a weak whisper, "Beautiful … "

Elsie felt the heat rising in her cheeks and ears. "Charles Carson, are you flirting with me?" she asked.

"If you have to ask, I must be making a right mess of it," he answered, looking down.

"I wouldn't say that," Elsie said. "But we _have_ been alone in this room for hours, and you haven't even kissed me yet. What's wrong, Charles?"

"Oh, Elsie, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit nervous, that's all," Charles told her truthfully.

"So am I, Charles," she admitted. "But we will manage this together. Come here," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. She sat down and gently tugged his hand so that he sat next to her.

"I'm sorry I haven't been better behaved tonight. It's just that I'm a bit overwhelmed. Aren't you? We're about to … well, to … to _make love_!" There. He had said it.

"My Dear," said Elsie, caressing his face reassuringly, "we have been 'making love' for twenty years!"

"Perhaps," he sighed with a smile. "But never in a bed."

"How different can it be?" she asked seriously.

Charles just raised his eyebrows and looked sideways at her in answer.

Elsie began caressing his hand, trying to ease his distress. After a few minutes of her soothing attentions, he began to relax. Then she slid one arm behind him and began rubbing his back, and he angled his shoulders away from her to allow her better access. She massaged his shoulders and neck as well, running her fingers up into his hair and scratching his scalp lightly with her fingernails. Soon, his tension began to dissipate under her ministrations.

"Oh, that's wonderful. Thank you, Love," he sighed appreciatively.

When he seemed more at ease, she said, "Now, lie down, Charles."

He did as he was told, stretching out his long frame and lying on his back. Elsie sat next to him on the edge of the bed and began to caress his face. He closed his eyes as her fingers fluttered over his features. She pushed back the lock of hair that kept curling over his forehead (the one that she had only ever seen when he was sick in bed or roused from slumber in the middle of the night for some crisis). When he was breathing regularly and deeply, she rose and walked around to the other side of the bed. Charles was still lying on his back, arms at his sides, but he was now smiling calmly up at her as she lay down and situated herself next to him, also on her back. She rested her hand next to his between on the bed between them and looped her pinky over his.

He decided to begin this new endeavor in the same manner in which he had begun their courtship. He regarded her reverently and asked, "Mrs. Carson, may I hold your hand?"

"Mr. Carson," she answered. "I am your wife. You may hold anything you'd like."

**And that's where we'll leave our favorite couple to their happily ever after. Thank you again for reading!**


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